Somatic Inquiry is a cohesive approach to psychotherapy that utilizes the mind’s natural capacity for awareness to become sensitive to the activity of the musculature in the present moment. It is the thesis of Somatic Inquiry that all experience is encoded in the neuromuscular system. By engaging in an open and precise examination of what is presently occurring in that system, we can gain clear access to our most deeply held fears, wishes, and strengths. We will also know what steps to take next, if any, as the process of Somatic Inquiry rouses our natural ability to connect with that which we value and to gain perspective on how best to move forward in life. The process has multiple stages, as detailed below.
Our first step is to be present to ourselves
Being present to ourselves means being aware of our experience as it changes with each passing moment. Presence is the act of paying attention to ourselves with warmth and interest, with an open attitude marked by curiosity and a willingness to be surprised. This awareness is precise and acute, grounded in all the senses, but especially the sense of touch. As used here, the word “touch” refers to the inner sense of touch called proprioception. Using this sense allows us to feel what occurs inside our skin, especially patterns of muscle tension and the position of our body in space. Although in Somatic Inquiry we are especially interested in accessing information about our current state as it is encoded in the proprioceptive channel, the same information is presumed to be encoded in other senses, such as hearing, sight, or the awareness of internal organs called interoception, which gives us access to “gut feelings”. The approach taken in Somatic Inquiry is that a picture is indeed worth a thousand words, and awareness of a neuromuscular pattern (aka “a feeling”) is worth a thousand pictures when it comes to encapsulating core beliefs about oneself and the world, knowing what we want, being in touch with our emotions, or becoming clear about our physiological needs. A clearly recognized feeling is then worth a million words, figuratively speaking.
What is being described by this term, neuromuscular pattern? What kind of feeling are we talking about? What is included when we talk about being present to ourselves? These questions can be clarified by making the following distinctions.
Often when people discuss proprioceptive awareness and its connection to emotion, we hear statements such as “I feel a tightness in my neck” or “I feel a sinking in my stomach” (technically, the first statement refers to proprioceptive awareness while the second references interoceptive knowledge). These perceived physiological events are then connected to a simultaneous emotional experience, such as anxiety or fear, with the implication that because I am anxious my neck tightens. In common parlance people may even say something like “I store all my stress in my shoulders”.
A criticism of this kind of thinking, from the point of view of Somatic Inquiry, is that at its most simplistic level it does not differentiate among muscle contractions except in their strength. For example, in the literature on physiological indices of anxiety, the intensity of a person’s emotional stress is correlated to the strength of muscular contraction, without regard to the location of the contraction or the overall pattern of muscles involved. In some more sophisticated systems, in addition to strength the location of the muscle contraction may be also considered; for example, jaw tension may equate with anger, while stomach sensations might be related to fear.
In Somatic Inquiry the idea is that the entire body participates in each emotion, attitude, or belief. Although we may be aware of somatic activity in one particular area more than others, we miss the subtlety and variety of somatic expression if we consider only one piece of what is a quite complex pattern. Indeed, in Somatic Inquiry we are less interested in tension per se than in a readiness to act, a tendency to move in a particular way which is represented in the signals the nervous system is conveying to the somatic musculature. As a result of this nervous innervation, there will indeed be increased electrical activity at the neuromuscular junction of all the motor units involved, which can be felt by the individual as either the assumption of a posture or a preparation to enact a particular movement. In Somatic Inquiry there is interest in the dynamic integration of areas of perceived muscle activity, which form a dynamic and coordinated whole that has a greater and more precise meaning than does the mere strength of muscle contraction at a single site.
For example, one might become aware of tension in the jaw as a highlight of the immediate somatic experience. But quite possibly, if we broaden our awareness we may notice other somatic components associated with the contraction of the jaw that together, form a more complete picture. The jaw tension might be part of a larger expression of a certain predisposition to act, a readiness to move in a certain way that would communicate our current state of mind. In addition to clenching the jaw, we could be readying ourselves to yell, pound our fists, or even strike out. In the methodology of Somatic Inquiry, we are encouraged to let our nervous system continue firing just as it has been, as it prepares our body for action. It is crucial that we do not attempt to alter its activity. In the present example, if we let the physiological preparedness for action continue while simultaneously maintaining proprioceptive awareness, we may become aware of a readiness to contract the entire ventral musculature. The features described above, of the clenched jaw, readiness to yell and perhaps of contracting the ventral musculature, taken together as an integrated whole, could be associated with emotions of rage and frustration. Moreover, the dynamic action component of the movement that “wants to happen” conveys information beyond the simple labeling of an emotion, such as “rage”. Becoming intimately familiar with the movement may let us know, for example, that our rage is infantile or impotent, that we feel powerless in the situation. When we simply stay with the tense jaw and its discomfort, we fail to contact the larger pattern of which it is a part.
This is a simplified picture, and other processes come into play in a multilayered fashion. In the example given above, the jaw tension may well reflect not a readiness to act, but rather a defense against acting, by inhibiting the musculature that would be involved in shouting, biting, or using harsh speech that employs “biting” words. These complexities and others will be addressed below, as they become clarified naturally during the practice of Somatic Inquiry.
However, we may find that it is not always easy to be present to ourselves
Many of us find that attempts to “tune in” to our inner process meet with modest and short-lived success. We may ask ourselves important and fundamental questions, such as what do I really want or what do I really feel. In order to answer these questions we may think analytically as well as engage in other mental activity. Memories related to the question arise, but all too quickly lead to memories of other events. Thoughts and lines of investigation arise, but similarly become rerouted. We find it hard to stay on task. While trying to address the question, we recall that we want to order a new pair of jeans, change the oil in the car, or wish someone a happy birthday.
Conversely, we may become flooded with feelings and memories about the questions we ask. How will I live my life now that my wife is dead? How will I go on after having been fired from my job, or learning that I have cancer? It is hard to gain perspective as we get hit again and again with emotions too strong to take in. Even if we are not overwhelmed by reflection on traumatic events, we may find that our inquiry gets sidelined by recall of troublesome conversations or disappointments of a smaller scale.
Why can’t we stay with these important questions for more than a few fleeting instants?
What is the problem, and how do we address it? How can we hear, feel, and see ourselves more fully, more openly, and at greater length than we typically do?
There is no single reason why we find it hard to listen to ourselves. There are, however, a limited number of identifiable factors that contribute to our deafness, each of which is amenable to intervention. We will address each of these factors in greater depth in the following chapters, but for now we can simply identify those forces that are most powerful in affecting our sensitivity.
In general, our attention is unstable. We are easily distracted from what lies before our mind’s inspection. We become distracted by competing mental activity, such as images, sensations, urges, and emotions. We become distracted by the internet, our email, our cell phones, and television. We fill up our lives and become victim to our own schedules, so we don’t have time to listen to ourselves (or others). Even when there could be time, we don’t allow it to stay open because we have come to believe in the God of Efficiency, so we want to multitask as we listen to ourselves, rather than run the risk of wasting time. We develop nervous systems that always “motor” along, looking for the next thing to do, checking our to-do list that like the Hydra, sprouts two items for each one completed. There is a perceived need to accomplish that has no “off” switch. We lose touch with what it’s like to be receptive, as we are addicted to goal-oriented activity.
This overly busy lifestyle is not generally perceived as a choice, one that we created. Our children “must” go to soccer camps while they are in the first few grades of elementary school, or they will no longer have the choice to play the game by the time they are in junior high. We “must” attend all social events to which we are invited, or risk becoming isolated. We “must” accept all offers to work overtime, for who knows when the job will end or be outsourced? Even such mundane imperatives as these are hard to resist, and yet they eat up our time, especially in the context of a structured work week that, with commuting, is usually at least 45 hours long. Add in shopping, cooking, and cleaning the house and where has the time gone? We are faced with significant and real time pressures in our modern lifestyle. Paradoxically, it is the failure of having time to spend with ourselves and listen to our inner voices that causes us to make poor choices on how we use our time, such that those choices prevent us from having time to spend with ourselves…, and so on in a vicious cycle.
And so it is that these two processes, inattention and ceaseless activity, feed one another in an ever-ascending spiral that leaves us no time to be with ourselves. They are not, however, the only factors involved in this horrific race towards being the first totally programmed human. We are inexperienced in accessing intelligence that doesn’t require analytical thought, that takes place slowly, and that occurs below the level of our more superficial consciousness. When we make inquiry of ourselves regarding the deeper aspects of ourselves, we are handicapped by our unfamiliarity and even discomfort with this more slow-moving intelligence. Yet it is this very kind of intelligence that is most suited to answer the questions related to values, to internal blockages, and to finding the reservoirs of resource that abide within us. Identifying, allowing, and even nurturing the deeper and slower aspects of mind is essential to asking and answering some of the more important questions regarding our lives. We must set aside time from our busyness, and then allow the deep mind to engage.
It has been said that we are a speedy society in part because we are afraid of openness, of not knowing what happens next. Allowing the process of deep mind to unfold and engage requires us to rest in the spaciousness that actually surrounds any process that is not predetermined. We rest in not knowing the outcome, feeling at once uncertainty and potential. We must therefore not only set aside time, and pay attention to what is unfolding, but refrain from the urge to speed it along towards a predetermined outcome. Due to our unfamiliarity and lack of practice with the feeling of this process, we are blocked in our ability to listen to ourselves.
We also have difficulty being with ourselves when the experience is aversive or painful. However, after a lifetime of unacknowledged and unprocessed pain, voices informing us of the hurts we have suffered and asking for attention are the very first ones to arise when we allow a gap in activity. Even in the first few moments after sitting down to be with ourselves, we may immediately become aware of our anxiety and the degree of speed with which we have been running from our fears. Not wishing to be with so much suffering, we seek activities that will make us more comfortable, and avoid those likely to bring up the feelings of inadequacy, powerlessness, or betrayal that might otherwise arise. In this case we are likely to adopt avoidance strategies already mentioned, such as overwork, but we may instead opt to distract ourselves with drugs, sex, or any of the many opportunities for entertainment that are available in modern society. We are, in effect, addicted to comfort, and unwilling to face the sharp edges of life that give rise to a more vivid pleasure as well as a more florid pain.
Our capacity to feel what is occurring inside us may also be hampered if we have been raised in cultures or families that teach us to blunt our feelings. We acquire a kind of insensitivity that in a former age was called alexithymia. It is like the wild children who do not acquire normal language, despite having been born with brains that were hardwired for its acquisition. Even given a chance to be with ourselves, it is hard for us crack the code of neuromuscular activity to see directly what the deeper parts of our mind are communicating.
To this non-exhaustive but suggestive list of factors contributing to an impaired inquiry process could be added the limiting effects of biased perception based on an overreliance on conceptual schema. Our preconceptions and presumptions limit the direction, process, and outcome of the inquiry. We have beliefs encoded at levels too deep for us to even know they are installed as programs, arbitrary and amenable to deletion or reprogramming. We experience them as the givens, or musts, of our lives. Even in the recent past, many gay men grew up with the imperative that they must marry and father children. Some of these men did not realize their true sexual orientation until after they had fulfilled these imperatives. When something so fundamental as sexual orientation can be hidden from us by social pressures, how easily can we be blinded by ambition for wealth or status, or conformity to the image of eternal cheerfulness as a sign of success? These and other deeply held beliefs will limit our inquiry, serving as land mines we step around.
Before we can be present, we have to pay attention
In the last section, six factors were identified that contribute to a relative lack of sensitivity to ourselves: 1) simple inattention, 2) being overly busy, 3) failure to allow the slow process of the deeper mind to operate, 4) avoidance of discomfort, 5) being stunted in our ability to recognize emotional states, and 6) being blinded by preconceptions. All these factors serve to sever our complete involvement in and openness to present circumstances and experience. In particular, they make it hard for us to feel, with precision, the embodied forms of our fears, aspirations, and strengths which are the answers to our Inquiry, and which will guide us in making choices which are the best expression of our inner nature.
Our pathway into the present lies along the stepping stones of the senses. Much of our life is lived in higher order, or elaborated process, in which we have constructed implicative realities. When we speculate about what kind of person someone is, or why they act as they do, what we will do if it rains this afternoon, or whether the tax system is fair, we take elemental bits of data and produce realities that do not exist in the material world. These verbally constructed abstract models may have interpretive and predictive value, but all too often become the primary if not sole source of information guiding our lives. Entranced by these models, we may ignore information coming through physiological channels, especially if it contradicts the abstract models. In relating to the senses, we have an opportunity to contact raw, unelaborated data that does not leave the immediate present. This first order, or primary process, is the point at which most of us can most easily contact the sense of nowness without departing immediately into flights of fancy.
Working with the senses as a way to ground us into the present moment requires a willingness to experience these raw sense data without that experience creating further experience, in a never-ending chain of associations. In practice, then, as one finds oneself zooming forward in time to possible alternative scenarios, the instruction is to relax that movement and head back where you came from, which is to the raw sense data that impelled the flight of ideas. The quality of this is that one becomes stable in the present, that for a mere instant we cease moving to the next moment. There is a momentary gap in the machinery of busyness, distraction, and avoidance, and we touch fully that single moment in time. The mind that had been split, actively contemplating how else things could be, rests for a moment. This resting is nothing more than the relaxation of the resistance we typically have to experiencing fully just how things are. We have been reserving an emergency exit in case reality becomes too intense, and have been living with one eye on the exit door. It is as if the clouds had parted and we see sunshine again. Rather than wishing we could be there, we are here.
This process is greatly supported by working with select aspects of the physical posture. For example, we can allow to operate, without resistance, the effect of gravity on our bodies. Feeling the weightiness of our bodies, their substantiality, is accompanied by a kind of sinking into the support of the chair we are sitting on, or the ground we are standing on. It is a letting go of unnecessary muscle tension we have applied in an effort to support ourselves. Surrendering the weight of our bodies in this way is accompanied quite naturally by a surrendering of our thoughts, and we find ourselves sinking into the present moment. As we let go physically, we let go psychologically, and express our willingness to stay in the moment. The entire process of working with the body, especially in terms of posture, to increase our sensitivity and ability to pay attention to ourselves, will be explicated in greater detail in Chapter 3. Other important qualities which can be accessed by attention to posture include stability of attention, openness, and trust. For now, having given some indication of how this might work, let us just stipulate that in the process of Somatic Inquiry, relating to the senses, especially the proprioceptive sense, is the gateway to open and precise experience of ourselves.
Being fully attentive is the foundation for being present to ourselves
When we access awareness that is not marked by fantasies of how else this moment could be, either positively or negatively, we can examine our current experience via the following question. “Am I resting in equipoise, absorbed into a feeling of well-being that seeks nothing not already present, marked by a mind that is clear and bright?” If the answer is yes, the approach of Somatic Inquiry is to enjoy that for as long as it lasts. If the answer is, “well that’s not exactly my experience”, more likely there is a feeling of something churning and bubbling inside oneself, perceivable in the proprioceptive channel. In the latter case, the recommendation is to stay aware of those urges, which find expression in a predisposition to move, to take action, or to sculpt the body into some particular shape.
It is important to note that in phrasing the question above, we are not trying to create a reality marked by resting in equipoise, as that would introduce an effort that distorted and distracted from the actual experience we are having. The question is intended simply as a way of highlighting for us what is in fact occurring, by providing a contrast.
In this practice of being present to ourselves as each unique moment of time passes, we can track fluctuations in the form and intensity of the neuromuscular pattern. Letting go of the urge to control these fluctuations, we can sit with these spontaneous movements as they come more clearly into focus. This process becomes the dynamic object of meditation.
Generally, our awareness of this process resolves eventually into one of two things. Either we will become aware of how this somatic activity is functioning as a defense against unwanted experience, or we become aware that the neuromuscular pattern is a direct expression of a deeply held emotion or a stance towards the world. This stance is the existential position one has taken in life. It is sometimes referred to as a core belief, a pervasive operating principle that defines one’s relationship to the world across a wide variety of situations.
Key to this practice is the simple idea that core psychological processes of either grasping onto or pushing away experience always find expression in the somatic musculature and the nervous system which innervates it. Here, experience refers to sensations, emotions, memories, and cognitive awareness. We might, for example, try to push away awareness of a headache, or grasp onto a feeling of relaxation. We might try to calm down if we are angry, or nurse a positive feeling of joy and success; push away the memory of a public failure or replay being praised; turn away from acknowledging we have a selfish streak and emphasize our uncontrived generosity. These attitudes and efforts are not purely psychological, but involve the neuromuscular system.
Being with ourselves in this way, being present to our experience, is the stark experience and realization that something is so, unadulterated by commentary about its desirability or implications. We can cease arguing for or against the experience we are having, but instead have it as a complete moment of nownesss. This is a profound moment.
This part of the process is likely to occur in stages as well. At some point in our Somatic Inquiry, we simply become aware of and allow the seemingly involuntary contractions to occur. This is hard to do, for it involves giving up the excessive control we exert on our bodies. We do not know when these subtle contractions will start, how long they will last, or what form they will take. It is as if we have lost control to an alien force, and are no longer protected against unwanted experience. At a deep level, it threatens the sense of who we are and just how much we think we author our lives. At a similarly deep level, it offers the opportunity to trust that we are not separate from the intelligence of the universe, by whatever terms one might refer to it.
We might, for example, feel how our shoulders want to round as our chest caves in and our head falls forward. There is no need to dramatize this movement by actually taking this shape, as might be done in an expressive therapy like psychodrama or gestalt. In Somatic Inquiry the recommendation is to maintain a good, upright, and relaxed posture, the posture of kindness, which allows us to be maximally sensitive in the proprioceptive channel to the impetus of the body to take the shape described above. By taking the upright and relaxed posture we have decreased the strain in the body, allowing us to feel the somatic contractions as they occur, even at fairly subtle levels.
In this stage of Somatic Inquiry, attention is placed not on the contents of awareness, that which we are grasping or rejecting, but rather on the process of how we intervene in an effort to control the experience of being touched by those contents. In practice, we might notice how we steel our body so as not to feel too acutely or not to become aware of an aversive event. Just as we stiffen upon jumping into a cold lake, we stiffen when we become indignant upon perceiving an insult or realizing, albeit dimly, that we are arrogant or self-absorbed.
What happens next? As we become aware of and stay in the experience of that neuromuscular pattern without trying to change it, we might have an experience of our body/mind being organized around a single full moment, like a flashbulb memory seared into our brain that expresses a reality that has no reference point in time. Being timeless, it is as if that moment is all there ever has been, and all there ever will be. It could, for example, be a full and complete world in which we are pleading with someone, or in which we are finally receiving acknowledgement that we were correct in a dispute, or in which we are being attacked from all directions. These and other experiences are the encoded/embodied central statements of the deep psychological realms we occupy, and through which life experience is processed. They are primal scenarios which encapsulate the key elemental forces of our environment and their relationships to us.
Broadening Inquiry to Include Visual and Auditory Representations
From the starting point of touching fully on existing neuromuscular patterns, we may become aware of the visual and auditory components of the represented experience. Images related to the incipient movement may arise, as may simple words and phrases. If we stay with the sense of vividly penetrating an instant in time in all its fullness, these images and phrases flesh out the experience, and give it more complete form, without running the risk of being the occasion for discursive thought trains that generate further images and thoughts.
It is worth emphasizing that at this stage the process of Inquiry remains open and unbiased. There is no sense of looking for the image that must accompany a neuromuscular pattern, for that would be a kind of analytic deduction, which all too easily goes astray and loses connection with primal intelligence. We do not direct the outcome of this Inquiry, only its process. The basic instruction is to resist premature foreclosure based on an idea of what we would like to have happen. During a practice session, or over a series of sessions, we may feel as if a somatic contraction pattern has us in its grip, causing unbidden clenching, rotation of body parts, and breath-holding. The practice is to allow this neuromuscular activity to express itself at whatever level of intensity spontaneously manifests, and for as long as the pattern stays in force, without seeking relief by changing its form or strength, and without pressing for understanding or resolution.
Again, it may be helpful to offer a few concrete examples of how this process might unfold. During a Somatic Inquiry session, one might become aware of a contraction pattern marked by tightening of the back of the neck, such that the chin lifts upwards while the base of the skull is pulled down. Simultaneously the tongue may thrust against the bottom teeth while the entire floor of the mouth contracts. One might become aware of far more contractions than these, but delineating these parts of the pattern will suffice for this illustration.
Presumably it is uncomfortable to feel one’s body subjected to these forces, and ordinarily we automatically seek to relax or otherwise redress these imbalances. In the practice of Somatic Inquiry, it is instead recommended to let the nerve impulses that control this series of contractions fire unabated. The job of the practitioner is to feel the quality and intensity of the pattern as a living, emotionally meaningful expression that can be explored in all its richness. It is, strangely, similar to an expert wine taster noting all the flavors that come with a single sip of wine, as they unfold over the moments during and after swallowing. These different textures of experience parade before us in succession, mocking the paucity of language that would seek to characterize either the wine or the neuromuscular pattern in a single word.
As we surrender to the experience, we take a ride on a river whose currents we are only just discovering. Further, we are without paddles, and can only go where the currents take us. Our experience of the contraction pattern is so rich that it takes seemingly several seconds to register it all. It is an interesting combination of something that is both ever fresh and simultaneously unchanging. In its unchanging aspect it may repeat as a loop again and again, not only across a session, but even from one day to the next as we do the practice. In its freshness, it is not a single static moment but a moment that has so many parts to it that they must be experienced over time.
This loop has many different sensations and emotional associations in it. As the loop plays again and again, we are able to touch on each component or aspect of this very rich moment. Ordinarily the features pass by very quickly, and are so fused together we are unable to grasp the individual textures of each part. By having them replay again and again, of their own accord, it is like watching a film loop of something hard to discern, that becomes clear as we catch something we had missed before. Crucial to this endeavor is that we do not try to control the loop, but let it play in its own way for as long as it lasts. We do not try to change it, reduce its intensity, or avoid contacting it.
As we stay with this loop through its many repetitions we are able to fully touch that which we ordinarily defend against experiencing. In so doing, we also drop our defenses against other modalities in which the experience is represented, which allows a pertinent image to emerge. The image may be an associated memory, or a visual representation, like a symbol. Alternately words may emerge, or a sound may arise that expresses the contraction pattern.
Staying with the contractions described above, one might have the accompanying feeling as if one were drowning, or being buried alive, or of wanting to shout. Of course, other responses are certainly possible. These three are chosen to illustrate the level of formation that might arise at this point. The feelings are vivid, but there is no suggestion that they originate from a clearly identified event that mirrors the response, as if one had nearly drowned as a child or suffocated at some point in one’s life. The feelings are instead, a primitive representation of our psychological experience. As such, they are likely irrational and extremely potent.
Images of oneself struggling to breathe, to get free, or to survive may emerge. Soon after, the image may expand to include some view of the oppressor. Again, this is not necessarily veridical, but rather a psychic representation of the force that is impinging on one. It could be an image of a powerful and ill-intentioned person, a mythical demonic creature, or any of a number of personal and idiosyncratic images. The point is that the uncontrolled feelings can expand to include commensurate images.
As we continue the practice, words may spontaneously arise that also go with this experience. In this illustration, one might find the word “No” reverberating in one’s mind. If words arise, they are discovered, not chosen, and constitute another dimension of getting in touch with the ongoing experience of which we had been unaware, but which nevertheless was shaping our experience of the world and the choices we were making.
To relate this to the specific example chosen, we would have been living with a neuromuscular pattern of which we were either barely aware, or which we simply classified as a headache, or perhaps jaw stress. At best, we might have been aware of a chronic stress that was a huge nuisance, and for which we sought relief from some variety of medical interventions and physiotherapy. This everpresent set of contractions could actually code, however, for a stance towards the world marked by a sense of being controlled, of fighting against powerful ill-intentioned forces, necessitating resistance at nearly every moment of our lives in order to maintain our physical integrity and not be overwhelmed psychologically by those forces. We are, in effect, habitually saying “No!” to experience, moment by moment. It is the position of Somatic Inquiry that this would be a significant and worthwhile reality to discover, if it were in fact true about us.
Unconditional Peace
One might think uncovering such a stark and pervasive truth about ourselves, as illustrated in the example above, would initiate a course of therapy designed to intervene in such a deeply held belief, to restructure the psyche so we could more appropriately take in such nurturance and affection as the world has to offer us. Perhaps, but in the words of many a movie about law enforcement or the Wild West, “Not so fast”.
If we can refrain from the impulse to fiddle with our minds, and let this fully elaborated experience of the primitive belief be as it is, we will experience a cessation of the internal warfare we have probably been having regarding the truth we have discovered. We will experience a kind of peace that is dynamic and vivid, in which nothing is suppressed or merely tolerated. Rather than immediately and reflexively trying to change ourselves away from what we have discovered, we can make genuine and powerful friends with who we are.
Of course, peace as described here does not necessarily mean comfort, feeling good, or the absence of anything. This kind of energetic and wakeful peace is characterized by a full engagement with our moment to moment experience, made possible by having dropped the near constant struggle to change, buffer, or control each moment.
It is possible, therefore, to know and to experience that one is chronically angry, or feels left out, or believes oneself to be unattractive, and to go forward with life in the face of that truth. This is not a categorical knowledge, as when one says “I was born in Iowa”, but a truth felt as many times during the day as it is elicited. The amount of energy liberated by relaxing the compulsion to defend against the truth is enormous, and acceptance of one’s “shortcomings” leads to a greatly increased vitality and spontaneity of living, even without the “problem” having been changed.
The Paradox of Behavior Change
As a matter of skillful means, if and only if we can accept and have warmth towards ourselves as we are can we choose to make changes in our behavior that express our values and help us realize our goals. We may choose, for example, to refrain from angry outbursts. By allowing the emotion of anger to abide without suppression, we can more easily choose how to express it – in this case, by refraining from verbal violence towards others without having to “grit our teeth”.
If we are biased against our experience and unable to tolerate it, attempts at behavior change are reactive, a sort of flailing about without being fully possessed of all necessary information. Only in the presence of stable acceptance can we take a sober look at the causal relationships between our actions and the circumstances of our lives and choose more skillfully where indicated.
Importantly, the motivation is no longer one of “Change I must because I am unacceptable as I am”. When we think we must change to become acceptable, change efforts come at every turn with the self-initiated message that we are currently unacceptable. This drum beat of self-criticism tends to evoke an internal response that undercuts the behavior change efforts.
Transmutation of Defensive Posturing into Wisdom
Positive intent and intelligence always underlie the contraction pattern. If we stay with the negativity, in an unbiased fashion that doesn’t posit an outcome, we will discover wisdom and compassion.
This simple but profound statement regarding our fundamental nature is the foundational view that makes the journey of Somatic Inquiry a celebratory engagement with life in all its aspects. It is not only true that we need not fear our negativity, but further that we must relate with it in order to realize the positive qualities we naturally possess. Seemingly negative qualities like jealousy and pride are the gateway into positive qualities such as unconditional self-esteem and regard for others that is not based on currying favor.
This transmutation is possible only within the atmosphere of curiosity, engagement and acceptance that are the hallmarks of the Somatic Inquiry approach. When we can touch, stay with, and fully feel a moment in time there arises knowledge of how we were doing our best, even if the choices we made were unskillful. Rather than being a vague aphorism, this “best” is experiential knowledge that comes with compassion for oneself that in the midst of pain and confusion, we may have struck out at others (or struck in towards ourselves) in our efforts to find relief.
By following the process of Somatic Inquiry through to its end, we will uncover the defensive posturing that prevents us from seeing clearly. We will see that we wished to hurt others only because our own heart was so tender we could not stand the pain we were in. Once able to withstand that pain, and not react against it, we likely can see at a glance that others hurt us similarly out of their own pain. Importantly, this is not a process of talking ourselves into an intellectually held position, but one in which this truth is discovered and experienced.
If we have a genuine awakening that it is confusion that has caused ourselves and others to act in a hurtful manner, what arises but love and compassion? This love and compassion need not be maintained by continually reminding ourselves that everyone is involved in a great struggle; we can see, feel, hear, and taste the truth that it is so. In this way, only by relating fully to our defensive patterns can we open to the creative and loving aspects of ourselves. The defenses become the gateway to enlightened living.