MIND • BODY • SPIRIT
Maybe your next therapist shouldn’t be a therapist
Eric Weinstein It’s Not Therapy (It’s Problem Solving)
Mindfulness Message: Step Out of the River BY PATRICIA ULLMAN
Did you know that: • licensed therapists are limited to certain approaches by “standards of care” that leave out a number of highly effective healing modalities? • even if you’re paying out-of-pocket for your sessions, your therapist might be unable to use anything “different” because of insurance company requirements and state regulations? I’m not a therapist, but I always have therapists among my clients. They come to me for: • the most ancient healing modality (shamanic healing) • proven, but less conventional modalities (hypnosis/NLP and Eye Movement Integration [similar to EMDR, but gentler]) • the most exciting new energy modalities (Energy Psychology, such as EFT or “tapping” on meridian points, biofield work, and chakra manipulation) • intriguing coaching modalities (including Motivational Interviewing, True Purpose coaching, and Archetypal coaching) And they come for all the same problems they’ve seen one of their more conventional colleagues for – as well as problems of a spiritual/ energetic nature. So, whether you’re struggling with the new stresses of the pandemic or with older issues that keep you from being who you want to be, call me to find out how I can help. I have a limited number of sliding-scale appointments, and I offer helping and healing professionals two appointments at half-price: only $150.
the peace, the sounds of the rapids, the birds, the special smell of the forest. Our stops did not last long, but they were memorable. We didn’t talk much, but there was a tacit gratitude for our lives and our place at the moment. The feeling was so much like what you mentioned today that I just had to share it with you. We didn’t call it gratitude then–we were too young perhaps–but today, in retrospect, it was certainly the feeling I had. I just wanted to thank you for the gift that you gave me today. Meditation: Contemplating the River Find a quiet place where you can be undisturbed for a little while. Close the door, turn off your phone, and give yourself fifteen or twenty minutes for this restful contemplation. Take your time. Pause at the end of each paragraph, or whenever you like, and rest in the descriptions of where you are, what you are doing, and the images, sounds, and smells. Gently close your eyes and imagine yourself in a small boat on a busy river that’s full of rocks and rushing water. The loud sound of the water fills your ears, and you strain to hear the clamoring of people in other boats calling out to you and to each other. Your attention is constantly being pulled between the demands of navigating your own boat around the dangerous rocks and eddies, and the shiftiness of other boats coming in and out of your field of awareness. Feel the tension in your body and mind as you imagine being in this situation—your muscles straining to keep your boat from colliding or capsizing, and your eyes stinging with the spraying water as you struggle with all of this chaos just to keep going. Even when you come to a span of relatively calmwater, you know you have to be on the alert for potential dangers lurking. The river is constantly moving and changing. Contemplate this gently for a few minutes. It’s the busyness, shiftiness, uncertainty, and clamor of your daily life. It’s your everyday struggle, and you can feel it in your body and mind.
Since 2017, I have had the pleasure of leading a weekly meditation session for the Sibley Seniors Association. Since the COVID-19 lockdown that started last March, we’ve met via Zoom and the group has doubled in size. Our participants are warm, intelligent people, many retired, some still working as lawyers, writers, activists, and artists, some taking care of spouses, and some working with their own health issues. New people join; some come and go, and all are welcome. At this point, we’ve been through a lot together and our hour each week feels like a respite from the turbulence all around us. The river in the following contemplation is a metaphor for our busy and sometimes turbulent lives. Imagining ourselves stepping onto the still, grassy shore can remind us of this possibility in our daily lives—a chance to rest, renew, and touch in to the ever- present stillness within ourselves. Before offering you this contemplation, I want to share something one of our group members sent to me after our last session. She gives all of her time to care for her husband, who suffers fromParkinson’s, and she kindly gave me permission to include her message: I am particularly grateful that I did not skip your session today. It was almost eerie the subject you chose for our contemplation. It described, almost to a word, numerous summers when S. and I were younger and we ran the rapids at the Metolius River in Central Oregon. We used kayaks and our sons used rubber rafts until they got older and took over the kayaking tradition. S. and I used to stop on the side of the river and just sit on small landings to recover from the challenge of the rapids. We never rested long, we just wanted a moment to ourselves to unwind. The rest of the family knew to wait at the bridge where we pulled out until we were ready to drive back home. We were not meditators, but we celebrated
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PATHWAYS—Spring 21—19
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