With my ear placed close to Dad's lips, I listened attentively as Jack's shock, upon learning of Lisa's illness and swift demise, unfolded, midstream. While bending over my comatose father, I witnessed my dad's verbal responses to Lisa's father, verbatim.
While in this hallucinatory state, Dad's mind had opened the file that saw him standing at his sweetheart's front door, listening and responding to the circumstances surrounding her tragic death. If you'd been there to see Dad's facial expressions, while he lay in that hospital bed, you'd know what I mean. For several seconds, he'd be quiet, looking like he'd fallen into a nightmare. Next, his face looked struck with shock, and listening intently, I heard my father respond verbally to the horrifying news of Lisa's death. Then, Dad began to weep. Finally, I listened to my father asking tortured questions, each of which had been followed by silence while in his comatose state, Dad's facial expressions showed a man struggling to grasp the unfathomable …
Suddenly, insight dawned, and I got it: I'd been listening to Dad's half of his conversation with Lisa's father. The only person in that hospital room who could 'hear' Lisa's father's response to each question Jack had asked, all those years ago, had been my eighty year old father. Had Dad not related a detailed account of this tragic experience to me, including his emotional responses, I'd have sat beside him, assuming he'd spent hours muttering nothing but nonsensical gibberish—wondering at his weeping …
Upon straightening up, I exclaimed: 'Oh my God! What if the memory of the brain is a recorder that stores every experience over a person's lifetime in subconscious files! If that's true, we've not been listening to giibberish for hours. We've been watching Dad's recorder open file after file. It's as though his memory opens a subconscious file and pushes play. By listening intently, I've been able to hear Dad's side of this particular conversation spoken aloud, while he's been reliving both sides of this conversation, suggesting that I've been watching Dad react as though he's been 'listening' to Lisa's father describe her demise, word for word, right here and now, which is why Dad's facial expressions had worn every emotion he'd felt, fifty-seven years back, as related to me, a decade ago!'
By the time I'd finished exclaiming aloud, Dad's brain, having placed that file back into subconscious storage, had wandered into another file where his mind was actively reliving a whole other moment in time, which proved unrelated to Lisa's death. Upon reflecting over that surrealistic experience, I came to see how tuning out fear and confusion had allowed me to tune into intuition, which directed me to listen acutely enough to make sense of that which, at first, had seemed nothing more than nonsense.
As fear and confusion create static in our minds, understanding that which is taking place before our eyes may be beyond surface comprehension. In other words, intuition directs us to figure out that which proves to be personally significant so that confusion cannot exacerbate stress when we're making important decisions.
When confusion exacerbates stress, the brain's survival instinct is hard wired to kick in, thus instructing the autonomic nervous system to release chemicals that stimulate the defense system to ready our bodies to fight, flee or freeze. As an overabundance of hyperactive mental activity creates emotional static, the Neocortex, floods with chemicals and feeling overwhelmed, cannot think clearly.
In order to break that automatic chain reaction before my Neocortex floods with chemicals, which exacerbate my instinct to fight, flee or freeze, I 'invented' The Line of Control (actually, to calm my sons in hopes that they'd problem solve instead of fighting—and as I'd had to model that self soothing technique with consistency before I could expect them to adopt it as their own, by golly, that Line of Control actually worked to calm us, all! Needless to say, calming down does not solve problems, so intuition directed my think tank to 'invent' and model a simple, three step, problem solving plan of action, as well.).
Upon becoming well-practiced at maintaining control over my emotional reactiveness during moments of duress, I gained insight into the importance of taming my stress response—which might otherwise undermine my orderly, step by step, solution-seeking, decision-making process. The more I experimented on myself, the more fascinated I became, concerning the intricate workings of my brain.
I mean if my brain directs my thoughts, and if my thoughts carve my path then common sense suggests my gaining control over my defense system instead of allowing my defense system to control me. Upon reflection, my interest in the workings of the brain intensified on that day when I watched my dad relive page after page of his life.
Wow! I exclaimed, imagine everything stored inside our heads! As experiences stored inside my memory bank differ from that which has been stored inside yours, my penchance for 'listening and learning' has imprinted ever more deeply into my sense of conscious awareness.
Once insight into the workings of Dad's brain spotlighted specific subconscious files flying open, one after another, a string of insights began to march out of my mind, and ultimately, I came to see that love and loss have no concept of time. Though Mother Nature has gifted each person with a defense system that can actively wall off conscious awareness to the pain of love lost—love and loss remain buried alive deep within our core, suggesting that when love is real, it lasts forever.
As true love is eternal and as the heart is expansive, loving one person does not mean loving another less. Unfortunately, our defense systems block us from recognizing the importance of that fact, unless experience offers us reason to embrace that insight as our own, at which time, we, all too often, reflect back upon yesterday's decisions made under duress, with regret.
Today's train of thought has just opened a file, stored within my conscious mind, concerning another surrealistic moment in time that I'd shared with Dad ... And here's why I'd like to share that experience with you: I've come to believe that while our conscious minds grasp or recall portions of an experience, each of which is stored in its own file, the word-for-word account of every memory is recorded, subconsciously.
As it's a well known fact that defensive walls separate subconscious memory from conscious awareness, EMDR therapy proves vital in ferreting out traumatic experiences, buried so deep within the subconscious that the defense system allows no consicous recollection of the trauma, at all—except for those moments when flashes of intuition suggest shadows of recognition slipping through cracks in the wall, causing chills to run down our spines. During sessions of EMDR, I've learned that though the mind blanks, the body forgets nothing. (As in listen to your body, which receives intuitive direction …) If it's true that the detailed account of each experience has been subconsciously buried and stored, verbatim, then hypnosis proves exceptionally intriguing, as well.
Perhaps conventional methods of psychotherapy can help a traumatized person heal that which has been consciously recalled but no more … suggesting that if the traumatic root of a problem remains subconsciously blocked and thus unidentified, hence unexplored, healing from trauma remains unresolved …
Tomorrow, let's see what took place in the nursing home, after Grandma Bailey's dimentia—which had advanced to the point of walling off her ability to communicate coherently with her loved ones—seemed to crack …
While in this hallucinatory state, Dad's mind had opened the file that saw him standing at his sweetheart's front door, listening and responding to the circumstances surrounding her tragic death. If you'd been there to see Dad's facial expressions, while he lay in that hospital bed, you'd know what I mean. For several seconds, he'd be quiet, looking like he'd fallen into a nightmare. Next, his face looked struck with shock, and listening intently, I heard my father respond verbally to the horrifying news of Lisa's death. Then, Dad began to weep. Finally, I listened to my father asking tortured questions, each of which had been followed by silence while in his comatose state, Dad's facial expressions showed a man struggling to grasp the unfathomable …
Suddenly, insight dawned, and I got it: I'd been listening to Dad's half of his conversation with Lisa's father. The only person in that hospital room who could 'hear' Lisa's father's response to each question Jack had asked, all those years ago, had been my eighty year old father. Had Dad not related a detailed account of this tragic experience to me, including his emotional responses, I'd have sat beside him, assuming he'd spent hours muttering nothing but nonsensical gibberish—wondering at his weeping …
Upon straightening up, I exclaimed: 'Oh my God! What if the memory of the brain is a recorder that stores every experience over a person's lifetime in subconscious files! If that's true, we've not been listening to giibberish for hours. We've been watching Dad's recorder open file after file. It's as though his memory opens a subconscious file and pushes play. By listening intently, I've been able to hear Dad's side of this particular conversation spoken aloud, while he's been reliving both sides of this conversation, suggesting that I've been watching Dad react as though he's been 'listening' to Lisa's father describe her demise, word for word, right here and now, which is why Dad's facial expressions had worn every emotion he'd felt, fifty-seven years back, as related to me, a decade ago!'
By the time I'd finished exclaiming aloud, Dad's brain, having placed that file back into subconscious storage, had wandered into another file where his mind was actively reliving a whole other moment in time, which proved unrelated to Lisa's death. Upon reflecting over that surrealistic experience, I came to see how tuning out fear and confusion had allowed me to tune into intuition, which directed me to listen acutely enough to make sense of that which, at first, had seemed nothing more than nonsense.
As fear and confusion create static in our minds, understanding that which is taking place before our eyes may be beyond surface comprehension. In other words, intuition directs us to figure out that which proves to be personally significant so that confusion cannot exacerbate stress when we're making important decisions.
When confusion exacerbates stress, the brain's survival instinct is hard wired to kick in, thus instructing the autonomic nervous system to release chemicals that stimulate the defense system to ready our bodies to fight, flee or freeze. As an overabundance of hyperactive mental activity creates emotional static, the Neocortex, floods with chemicals and feeling overwhelmed, cannot think clearly.
In order to break that automatic chain reaction before my Neocortex floods with chemicals, which exacerbate my instinct to fight, flee or freeze, I 'invented' The Line of Control (actually, to calm my sons in hopes that they'd problem solve instead of fighting—and as I'd had to model that self soothing technique with consistency before I could expect them to adopt it as their own, by golly, that Line of Control actually worked to calm us, all! Needless to say, calming down does not solve problems, so intuition directed my think tank to 'invent' and model a simple, three step, problem solving plan of action, as well.).
Upon becoming well-practiced at maintaining control over my emotional reactiveness during moments of duress, I gained insight into the importance of taming my stress response—which might otherwise undermine my orderly, step by step, solution-seeking, decision-making process. The more I experimented on myself, the more fascinated I became, concerning the intricate workings of my brain.
I mean if my brain directs my thoughts, and if my thoughts carve my path then common sense suggests my gaining control over my defense system instead of allowing my defense system to control me. Upon reflection, my interest in the workings of the brain intensified on that day when I watched my dad relive page after page of his life.
Wow! I exclaimed, imagine everything stored inside our heads! As experiences stored inside my memory bank differ from that which has been stored inside yours, my penchance for 'listening and learning' has imprinted ever more deeply into my sense of conscious awareness.
Once insight into the workings of Dad's brain spotlighted specific subconscious files flying open, one after another, a string of insights began to march out of my mind, and ultimately, I came to see that love and loss have no concept of time. Though Mother Nature has gifted each person with a defense system that can actively wall off conscious awareness to the pain of love lost—love and loss remain buried alive deep within our core, suggesting that when love is real, it lasts forever.
As true love is eternal and as the heart is expansive, loving one person does not mean loving another less. Unfortunately, our defense systems block us from recognizing the importance of that fact, unless experience offers us reason to embrace that insight as our own, at which time, we, all too often, reflect back upon yesterday's decisions made under duress, with regret.
Today's train of thought has just opened a file, stored within my conscious mind, concerning another surrealistic moment in time that I'd shared with Dad ... And here's why I'd like to share that experience with you: I've come to believe that while our conscious minds grasp or recall portions of an experience, each of which is stored in its own file, the word-for-word account of every memory is recorded, subconsciously.
As it's a well known fact that defensive walls separate subconscious memory from conscious awareness, EMDR therapy proves vital in ferreting out traumatic experiences, buried so deep within the subconscious that the defense system allows no consicous recollection of the trauma, at all—except for those moments when flashes of intuition suggest shadows of recognition slipping through cracks in the wall, causing chills to run down our spines. During sessions of EMDR, I've learned that though the mind blanks, the body forgets nothing. (As in listen to your body, which receives intuitive direction …) If it's true that the detailed account of each experience has been subconsciously buried and stored, verbatim, then hypnosis proves exceptionally intriguing, as well.
Perhaps conventional methods of psychotherapy can help a traumatized person heal that which has been consciously recalled but no more … suggesting that if the traumatic root of a problem remains subconsciously blocked and thus unidentified, hence unexplored, healing from trauma remains unresolved …
Tomorrow, let's see what took place in the nursing home, after Grandma Bailey's dimentia—which had advanced to the point of walling off her ability to communicate coherently with her loved ones—seemed to crack …
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