Get Out of Your Head . . .

I did a visualization today from a book called Get Out of Your Head and Into Your Life, by Stephen C. Hayes. I haven't had much luck with this kind of exercise in the past. But you know how it goes: as an onion grows, you get more layers. This morning it was fruitful.

"Pick out one of the painful items you noted in your Suffering Inventory . . . Take a minute to get into experiential contact with it. Now in your mind's eye, put that painful item out on the floor in front of you, about four or five feet away. . . . When you get it out there, answer the following questions about it:

* If it had a color, what color would it be?
* If it had a size, how big would it be?
* If it had a shape, what shape would it be?
* If it had power, how much power would it have?
* If it had speed, how fast would it go?
* If it had a surface texture, what would it feel like?

The results created what the author calls a "pain creature." After reflecting on the results, I went to the next paragraph. "If you have a "sense of resistance, fighting, loathing, judgment, and so on about this pain creature, leave it out there . . . but move it off to the side. Now, find your sense of resistance [or whatever] and place it in front of you, next to the pain creature. When you get it out there, answer the same questions about it."

My first "pain creature," an imagined symbol of my lifelong depression, anxiety, and confusion (aka the Big Struggle) had come to me as a dark, gray, dense cube. Its outer texture was both fuzzy and bristly, like cheap stretchy fabric with prickly little pills. This was a coating or slipcover for the thing. When I pressed harder it felt solid underneath.

Since so many voices vie for top billing in my head, I knew a second visualization on resistance or judgment was in order. And this one made me weep. I discovered another pain creature who wanted to be recognized so badly that it appeared fully formed before I could even finish the questions. This white shorthaired dog, lean and robust with a black spot on its side, was barking madly at the gray cube - doing what dogs are supposed to do, with innocence, integrity and obedience to its character.

Instantly I knew that my resistance or judgment was not malevolent but a protective force, and one to be grateful for. Expecting a dog not to bark when it's bothered is unreasonable and disrespectful of the laws of nature. Especially since the barking will serve you when the situation warrants it. I could see that my depression or anxiety might be worsened, though, by being yapped at all the time by a protective energy that didn't understand. It seemed very apparent that these two "pain creatures" were entities in their own right who needed to be further known and respected - and not by left brain methods, which have formed the bulk of my psychological explorations over the years.

The dog came so naturally and quickly, I was reminded of a vision I had about a year ago - the only true waking "vision" I think I've ever had. More on that next time.