I’ve previously written that many
illnesses and symptoms stem from mechanical restrictions in the
body—and how releasing those restrictions can enable us to regain
our health. But there is more to health than an absence of symptoms.
To me, true
health implies an all-is-well-with-my-soul contentment. With bodywork,
this profound sense of health can be just a hop, skip and jump beyond
symptomatic relief. Regardless of the symptom or its cause, there is
often treasure—real treasure—buried with the associated
restrictions. Symptoms and restrictions frequently mark on-ramps for
the expressway to our soul.
By soul, I
mean that pure, godly (or god-like) part of us that is intrinsic,
inalienable, immortal. Bodywork can be an avenue to our own true
selves—that essence of self who is often very different from who we
and everyone else thinks we are. Our soul is who we really are when we
peel away all the layers of conditioning, self-deception, and learned
behavior.
By the age of
ten, most of us have been significantly damaged at least once in
“shipping and handling”. Typically, the injury is both physical
and emotional. Gravity, momentum, karma, probability, luck, life, or
some combination of these has done us dirt. If we left things at that,
we’d probably heal completely. Instead, our head gets into the act. Rather
than blow off the insult or blame someone else, we blame ourselves.
Furthermore, we erroneously conclude that this setback or upset would
not have happened if we were smarter, taller, shorter, stronger,
lighter, darker or more useful, coordinated, honest, etc. And so we
come to view ourselves as somehow deficient or less-than. In so doing,
we morph our emotional injury into a spiritual injury.
From that
moment forward, we think and act as if we were deficient, regularly
reinforcing that conclusion in word and deed. In other words, we begin
to live a lie. As a result, we grow with a twist which can vary
from eccentricities and neuroses to more serious mental disorders,
such as obsessive-compulsive, manic-depressive, or even schizophrenia.
Regardless of
the degree of twist, that sense of deficiency may initially serve as a
survival tool. At the time of the initial injury, we may have been too
young to understand what really happened. More likely, we were
too emotionally fragile or physically dependent on others to entertain
an accurate explanation. In any event, this survival mechanism usually
functions as intended—keeping us safe and sane enough to reach
adulthood.
As good as it
once was for survival, however, rarely does this sense that we are
deficient help us thrive. When the chasm between our spiritual
blueprint and our spiritual attainment becomes too great, the
deficiency delusion will likely start causing real havoc in our
life—as living a lie usually does. Some of us will even recreate
variants of the original injury. (In Waking
the Tiger: Healing Trauma, Peter A. Levine explains that these may
be attempts to reenact the original injury, but get it right. He also
explains why the attempts usually fail.) In any case, we will at
least start to perceive a gap between our attainment and our desires.
If not suppressed, this perception may launch us on a spiritual quest
which, with luck and persistence, will free us from our morass.
The physical
wound from childhood may heal, but the emotional scar eventually
produces the restrictions body workers can follow back to the
childhood event. There, our adult’s resources, perspective, and
understanding help us to recognize the error of our childhood
thinking. If so, we’re likely to instantly comprehend how that has
played out again and again, usually unhappily, during our life. If we
can do this in a gentle, compassionate way, the discovery that we’ve
pretended to be someone we never were—and often done a convincing
job of it—can be quite liberating: We have the ability to find out
and embrace who we really. We can choose a new direction that reflects
our true selves.
Of course,
taking this road-less-traveled-by first requires that we surrender the
shield of victimhood, stand on our own two feet, and take
responsibility for our actions. Scary? Yes. But, the rewards are
immense: We have a legitimate chance to finally discover our
mission here on Earth, fulfill our potential, and express, in all its
glory, the Christ, Buddha, Mohammed, or Great Spirit within.
That, too, will take some work, but the trail will rise to meet us.
Generally, it’s easier to be who we really are than someone we
really aren’t. It’s our job, one that only we can do.
This is
probably what Arnold Mindell meant when he wrote in Working With
The Dreaming Body: “Your scariest symptom might be your greatest
dream waiting to come true.” When you think about it,
discovering who we really are, for most of us, is our greatest dream.
Being that authentic person with every cell in our body is our
greatest gift to the world.
If you have
already rescued yourself from the original deception but are still
having a hard time upgrading operations, you might be using the wrong
language. To learn how to troubleshoot and successfully reboot your
life, read Robert Tennyson Stevens’ Conscious Language: The
Logos of Now. You can order it from his website: www.masterysystems.com.
Using CranioSacral
Therapy and Visceral Manipulation in Anchorage, Mike Macy helps
patients regain health and discover their true selves. He can be
reached at (907) 258-7261 or mmacy@acsalaska.net
