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 Speaking bodies I  Speaking bodies II  Speaking bodies III  Comprehensive outline

Speaking bodies III. Language and wholeness: the transformative practice of language

In this concluding session of the Speaking bodies minicourse we will look at practical applications for the embodied understanding of language laid out during the two previous sessions. We can use language to restructure ourselves and other people, sometimes very comprehensively. What does this imply about an ethics of language? What does it suggest about the art of language? What does it suggest about language and therapy, or language and spirituality? Does an embodied understanding of language give us a way to understand what ethics, art, therapy and spirituality have in common, in our practices with language?
 
1. Unbearable language
2. Principle: language changes the structure of bodies
3. Delightful language
4. Language and trauma
5. Language and wholeness
6. Another word for structural wholeness is love
7. Language and 'transformation'
8. Diagnosis
9. Methods
10. Summary
Bibliography
Supplementary notes for Speaking bodies III


1. Unbearable language

Think of instances of speech and writing you can't stand, think about which category it fits into. It can be any aspect of language

- the speaker is either harmed or wanting to harm

lying
manipulative for purposes of the limited self, intention to control, mislead, falsely impress, ingratiating ­ setting hooks
power bids conscious and unconscious
dull, conventional, formulaic
violent
solipsistic
frightened
confused
dreary
irresponsible
lack of presence, tuning, irrelevance
lack of courage

2. Principles: language practices change the structure of our bodies

We speak and write from body structure, by means of body structure.

By means of language we structure other people.

Listening to or reading language we are entrained by it.

By our practices with language we also structure ourselves.

Speech is acoustic energy ­

Acoustic slaving, entrainment
Rhythm - microrhythms
Intonation ­ frequency components ­ subaudible frequencies ­

Word choice and sentence construction is brain surgery

Texts are drugs

Contact high and contact low, tuning.

In consequence

Our language makes us and our hearer differently related to the cosmos.

Bad language is a kind of rape, structural violation. 'Boring' as a kind of aggression.

Summary, bad language has the effect of disabling, shutting down.

3. Delightful language

- Think of instances of speech and writing you find good.

    Vices of language/structural flaws of people
    Virtues of language/structural rightnesses of people
    "Brutally honest, so fucking real, grace in the twists, careful observation"
    Order: focus, truth, coherence, clarity, well-foundedness, thoughtfulness
    Responsibility
    Energy, freshness, invention, liveliness, freedom, play, relaxation - Jeanne's responsible funniness
    Relaxation
    Simple and heartfelt
    Complexity
    Direct
    Articulate
    Skill, intelligence,
    Presence, mutuality, empathy, intimacy
    Cleanness ­ means without manipulation for purposes of the defensive/limited self

- When the speaker is mutual and high-functioning you instinctively like being them. Good language has the effect of maintaining or improving structural wholeness of self and others.

4. Language and trauma

    Traumatic dissociation
    Hemispheric dissociation
    Reactivation
    Reintegration
     
    Segregation, dissociation, shutting down, autism, false self.

5. Language and wholeness

What does 'wholeness' mean?

What difference does it make to bodies to 1) consciously feel what they are feeling, and 2) speak and act truthfully from that integral presence of body? What are the costs to health and beauty and intelligence of dissociating internally and hiding externally? What is the meaning of pleasure, organically? How much of ill-health and ugliness comes from suppression of early love?

The question of state is ultimately a question of body structure, on both macro and micro levels, so this topic leads us directly to the one below:

The brain and body are a simultaneous structure of great complexity, which summarizes everything we have been and known, and in which everything is fitted into place with exquisite logic. But any act, or language act, must issue from that great complex whole in a limiting temporal sequence. So we gradually and over a lifetime unfold the whole we already are. Its implicate order.

    > Language and world - wholeness, withness
    > Language and silence
    > language and youngness ­ early love, attachment
    > language and the unconscious
    > language and trust

6. Another word for structural wholeness is love

    a. sanity, contact
    b. sacrifice of limited self ­ giving up the limited self - defensive self ­ fearful self ­ being willing to be larger
    c. flow, energy
    d. deep order, integration
    e. generosity, transparency, sincerety, selfness, courage

7. 'Transformation' (Discussion specific to TLA)

Can language be used to improve function?

Language can be be used to recover feeling, recover intelligence ­ recover responsiveness ­ recovering realness ­ recover mutuality.

Is there a difference between writing as therapy and writing as art?

Writing as 'expression' and writing as art - does writing have to be about trauma to have a mending effect?

The shift of state that can occur by its means.

How does the body change when we do art? What other sorts of activity have that effect?

8. Diagnosis: careful listening and reading

Diagnosis of the language is diagnosis of the structure of a body/person.

What's right with this, what's wrong with this.

We model this as advisors ­ advisors mean we look toward, ad-videre.

>What does it mean when language has grip, what makes it seize and hold attention.

>Suffering of other people's language.

People who are sensitive to qualities of language use are sensitive to qualities of whole persons.

Learning to feel discomfort diagnostically.

Defensive language: segregated language

Isolated left hemisphere language shows in the rhythms

Tonal, lexical (autistics)

Insensitivity to language: the sensitivity is probably there. Social training to ignore it and override it and blame oneself for it.

What is one looking for?

    >Spots of blur ­ conventionality, cliché, nouns false, verbs true
    >Tone ­ energy or not, when does it come alive -
    >Manipulation: charm, impressors
    >Hedging
    >One's own instinct

9. Methods:

Gendlin focusing ­ felt sense

Joanna Field: contact gives energy, gestalt, joyfulness of speaking misery accurately. Verbal sketching

Spinster and teaching writing, Sylvia Ashton-Warner

Writing love and contact rather than anxiety

journal writing as if to one's ideal lover

freewriting, morning pages

10. Summing up the relation: what is good language?

It makes good people, both in the long term and in the moment.

Good structure: good state. Intimacy.

    1. ethic of language ­ making a good being -
    2. art of language ­ same
    3. therapy using language - same
    4. language and spirituality ­ same

Example of intimacy in language

Tell us examples ­ Coleridge's poem to his child, the romantics, the modernists


Bibliography for Speaking bodies III

Ashton-Warner Sylvia 1961 Spinster Bantam

Clynes M 1978 Sentics: the touch of emotions Anchor

Gendlin, Eugene T. Focusing. New York: Bantam, 1981.

Milner Marion / Joanna Field 1990 On not being able to paint International Universities Press

Ong W 1982 Orality and literacy Methuen

Rich A 1975/2001 Women and honor: some notes on lying, in Arts of the possible: essays and conversations, 30-40 W W Norton

Valery P 1958 The art of poetry Bollingen

Whalley G 1985 Studies in literature and the humanities McGill-Queens

Woolf V 1977 The diary of Virginia Woolf Hogarth Press


Supplementary notes for Speaking bodies III - reading notes and student correspondence

Dawn Prince-Hughes on gorilla speech

They didn't look at one another, and they didn't look at me. Instead they looked at everything. They were so subtle and steady that I felt like I was watching people for the first time in my whole life, really watching them, free from acting, free from the oppression that comes with brash and bold sound, the blinding stares and uncomfortable closeness that mark the talk of human people. In contrast, these captive people spoke softly, their bodies poetic, their faces and dance poetic, spinning conversations out of the moisture and perfume, out of the ground and out of the past. They were like me. Dawn Prince-Hughes, Songs of the gorilla nation

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Favor's annotation of Adrienne Rich

Rich, Adrienne 1974/79 "Women and Honor: Some Notes on Lying," in On Lies, Secrets and Silence, 185-194 New York: W.W. Norton.

I carry this essay wherever I go, in all my interactions and all my challenges. When I make a new friend, one who I think I might be able to trust, I ask them if they know this essay. If not, I worry until I have given them a copy. The truth that Adrienne Rich talks about is a truth that holds us accountable for our own lives and loves. This truth allows us our fears, but demands we acknowledge where the fear takes us in ourselves and in our relationships. She writes of the silences that are born of fear, which are at their clearest, lies, and at their most complex, obstacles to truth telling. This essay, this thinking, is how I learned to tell the truth. It is the most important thing I have ever read. Favor Ellis

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Language and silence

When we are silent we can feel our bodies and we can feel other people. So it seems that evasion of silence can very often be taken as a sign of evasion of body feeling.

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Language as attention rather than presentation

What I'm talking about is a difference of state that is apparent in writing as a difference in diction, in tone.

Let me say a couple of things I don't mean.

I don't mean academic writing as such. In my experience academic writing can be extremely beautiful. (One of the things that makes it so is clarity.)

I don't mean critical reflection, self-criticism. Monitoring oneself is intrinsic to good writing; any of the voices do that. (Their rules are different though.)

What I do mean is segregated left-hemisphere language ­ language that doesn't much consult emotion, sensation, perception, and therefore comes across as formulaic. The tip-off can be a fancifying of lexicon: choice of more educated-sounding words and phrases. See whether, when you go fancy in that way, you are cutting off in some way. Right-hemisphere language is earlier: plainer, more direct and more genuinely creative. Also slower, often.

When language is not segregated/distanced/cut-off it can be thought of as a sort of attentional organ rather than a presenting-organ.

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Amanda on pleasure and writing

acknowledging, lately that my relationship to processes of discovery is highly sensual/erotic

that these records, as fraught with confusion and pain as they may be, are really, at their essence, acts of pleasure.

This statement seemed to me to be the highlight of your packet, the moment where you find the platform of truth in your own project. You are in love with being. You want your writing to honour it. Hold onto that, don't let anyone talk you out of it.

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Anna's VW quote and trusting the telling

A thing about both Virgina Woolf and Coleridge is that as writers they trust themselves unconditionally. They can be freaking about this or that about themselves, but they trust the telling of it always. For instance this:

this goes on; several times, with varieties of horror. then, at the crisis, instead of the pain remaining intense, it becomes rather vague. i doze. i wake with a start. the wave again! the irrational pain: the sense of failure; generally some specific incident, as for example my taste in green paint, or buying a new dress, or asking dadie for the week end, tacked on. / at last i say, watching as dispassionately as i can, now take a pull of yourself. no more of this. i reason. i take a census of happy people & unhappy. i brace myself to shove to throw batter down. i begin to march blindly forward. i feel obstacles go down. i say it doesn't matter. nothing matters. i become rigid & straight, & then sleep again, & half wake & feel the wave beginning & watch light over the house whitening & wonder how, this time, breakfast & daylight will overcome it; & then hear L. in the passage & simulate for myself as for him, great cheerfulness; & generally am cheerful by the time breakfast is over. does everyone go through this state? why have i so little control? it is not creditable, nor loveable. it is the cause of much waste & pain in my life.

She's describing psychic torture, but look at the relish with which she writes it.

Objectivity. She has a very thorough morality of exact confession, telling her story as that of a sample human.

She is not ashamed of her thoughts.

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Anna on language and love

I can see that Virginia Woolf has fallen in love with reality, and with the process of discovering it and expressing it accurately. This is what she is talking about in Room when she says that it is the writer's responsibility to find, live in, and communicate "reality," "now to be found in a dusty road, now in a scrap of newspaper in the street, now in a daffodil in the sun It overwhelms one walking home beneath the stars and makes the silent world more real than the world of speech - and then there it is again in an omnibus in the uproar of Piccadilly". She has fallen in love with thinking of things in themselves; this love creates a vivid life and a numinous reality. Her spiritual philosophy doesn't eschew this world for a dark silent cave in which to seek transcendence from this world and the body; she is immersed with the joy of walking through the marketplace of ten thousand howling and silent things.

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Anna on body state evoked by tone and style

Welwood's tone feels quiet, warm, and unusually human and accepting. while reading his words, I become silent, still, grounded, and physically centered in my heart.

*

With Favor on self-division in language:

I resent that's what I'm taking in, and I resent that's what I've put out.

So you should resent. But the struggle with the language we have taken in is exactly what writing is for! I'm half remembering a line of Gertrude Stein's (I think in The making of Americans), talking about why she writes slowly: "There is so much one doesn't want." We learn to speak by hearing speech. We learn writing by reading. The language hemisphere is the trained, indoctrinated, colonized hemisphere. It is the Other installed in us like a rogue program. Insofar as we live in that hemisphere it is the father we are swallowed by.

My guess is that you'll probably have to let go of knowing anything about how it should be. You'll have to let go of 'being a writer.' You'll have to let go of being able to compete in the arena with other writers. You will have to care for nothing but telling your own story as truly as you can, in a voice that as much as possible is the voice of the other hemisphere ­ the hemisphere that isn't swallowed by the father. The young hemisphere. The here-and-now hemisphere that hardly is able to read.

The word I want to emphasize is loyalty: you have to be more loyal to your own self, your own story, your own truth, than to writing, to succeeding, to hiding, to being safe, to anything at all. If you are not loyal to that self, there is no one else who will. She will be nowhere. But she isn't nowhere, you know exactly where she is and how to find her. You don't know all she has to say, or how she will want to say it, but you can let her know you are willing. You can be a father come to find her. Another way to say it is that the language hemisphere has to be willing to become the helper and supporter and champion of what is not language.

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Reading and writing as addiction

I don't read for a few days, and I feel numb and lifeless and so thick in whatever is keeping me stuck, I can't move.

So reading and writing have been defenses against depression. We knew that already. But it means being swallowed by the father has been a pleasure to you, you volunteer for it. We could say it's addictive.

Here is a question: within depression, can you locate some sparky neutral little being who is interested in what it is like to be depressed? That sparky little being is your thread.

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Anna on writing and thinking

As I don't know exactly where to begin, I think I'll start from where I am.

I'm working on this flow of packet to packet in my thoughts on the work, on a flow of essays and books

what I am learning I can do - to think on the page in writing, and then see if it strikes a true note of resonance.

I am learning, I think mainly in these two most recent packets, that I can think on the page, that in writing I also discover things, and that if I allow myself to meander and discover and hold my perceptions of imminent judgement at bay then I can have a lot of fun writing. Did I really say that?!! I did.

once I get past my initial strong hedging of beginning, I start discovering and finding new ideas, or finding that the ones that were rattling in my head for two weeks take unexpected turns. It's also a question of input-output; if I take in a lot of reading and information, I need to digest it in the writing, and then more ideas and understanding will develop.

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With Anna on writing for whom, and styles of thought

Virginia Woolf's diary ... did she have some fictional audience in mind?

how to create that resonance more and more for myself, so that when I'm no longer at Goddard, I will know how to write, how to write my truth, how to create my own audience that will evoke my deep truth. Some way to write and develop what Virginia Woolf calls a prose style which is completely expressive of my mind. Anna Hawkins

The relation of self-intimacy and other-intimacy is so interesting a question.

VW has self-intimacy to a remarkable degree. Where did she learn it? I think one answer is that she was lucky in her family, and later very lucky in her marriage. She grew up among people who were interested in each other's experience - artists and many of them brilliant - and then she went on providing herself with friends of the best kinds. Writing in her journal was not so different from talking to her sister Vanessa, or Leonard later, I think.

She was a studious writer too, and she read with a swift eye to anything another writer could show her about how to express feeling and thought. That's another answer: she studies intimacy technically.

But the real truth, the core, I think - the central answer to your question about audience and prose style and thought - is that she's very hard-working: not lazy. Even writing in her journal she is always pressing to get it right. Not being satisfied with conventional expression, not being satisfied with the half-true, not being satisfied with frightened evasion, always always pushing to say what something is, what something is like. For her, writing and thinking are moral crises: she knows that any cheating shows. We can't depend on even an imagined audience to give us the permission to be great, we have to care enough to be great even if no one will ever see that we are great. We have to care because that's what we want to give to the greatness of life.

creating a space so loving for yourself, so open, that you can unfurl yourself to yourself, without self criticism and judgment.

There maybe is a place where loving the greatness of life and loving yourself are the same thing. If you love the greatness of life enough to be willing to do anything you have to, to be able to do it honour, then you will treat yourself with the same honour and willingness to know, since honouring your own reality will make you more capable of honouring all else.

I shall here write the first pages of the greatest book in the world. this is what the book would be that was made entirely solely & with integrity of one's thoughts. VW

See ­ she is not ashamed of her thoughts.

*

Integrating:

The work you are doing is not fretting, it is restructuring. It is essential. It is making the platform from which to give and create correctly.

If fear arrives this way at night I would guess it's because there is old fear structure built into your brain and when you are asleep you aren't able to keep it suppressed. You get the dream when the brain is trying to be undivided. The implication would be to find ways to feel the quality of the fear, every shred of it, as consciously as possible, but in safety, while you're awake, so the brain can get the wholeness it's trying for.

It's about gradually rebuilding your own structure so that whatever has been segregated can rejoin the conscious self. For this to happen the child-you needs to freak out fully in whatever way it does, so that its nonconscious structures can let go and be integrated. At the same time you need to not exactly identify with the freakout ­ you need to keep a sense that it is the child freaking out.

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Visual writing

I also wondered whether you might be interested in doing some specifically visual writing.

I am thinking that because one of the things I value about journal writing is that it seems to allow a very private, and perhaps even unconscious, visual perception to speak. When I start writing I might recall something, from the day before for instance, and as I'm recalling it in the slow private moment of writing, I seem to see more. So it seems worthwhile to set up a trusted connection between the primary perception hemisphere and the speaking/writing hemisphere by exercising that connection intentionally. You can write visual sketches the way you make pencil sketches, simply by looking at what's in front of you and trying to write it. Just a thought.

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Journal writing and tuning

I've been writing my journal in pencil for years, because there seems to be a tuning-in process, where I start out writing from a surface/social voice and then by seeing that it isn't right, switch to something realer. There's something also about the feel of pencil.

Something else I discovered is that if I am hesitating when I sit down with the journal, I write down what I can hear at that moment. It seems to help the switch into a deeper attention.

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Journal writing and defensive thoughts

writing can also be very destructive to myself if I'm writing interpretations of my self or others

This is familiar. Especially if I'm hurt I can use the journal to make up a position that is falsely defended. After many years, I don't do that any more, but it was seeing it written down in the journal that showed me I was doing it. - But it's the defense not the acute vision that is destructive.

Have you noticed different handwritings in your journal, as if (sort of) different people? I have noticed in my journal that love woman and work woman can be distinguished by their handwriting.

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Journal writing as wider connection

I describe events in my journal because I am in some ways too fast and too preoccupied with concealment and suppression to really see them when they happen ­ I have to experience them again in the slowness and connectedness and privacy of writing to know what that other half in me was noticing and concluding. I sit down and say to myself, now what do I really think about that?

Looking at something again helps me know more than I did the first time. Invariably. It feels as if there has been someone silent who was present and observing and feeling at the time, but not exactly conscious. When I write in my journal she is able to say what she knows, which interests me a lot.

Write about things you want to understand not about things you already have something to say about. That way the writing becomes a way of tapping your feelers (it's Virginia's image) into the wide air like a moth scouting pheromones. Watch how Virginia does it ­ you can see her throwing out bait and then staying very alert while she watches an image rise like a fish (her image too) to answer it. Make it so writing is a way of having a conversation with the lover who lives invisible as the silent half of your brain.

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With Layla on writing as day-processing

I started journal [writing] to process my day so that my dreams would be more free for intentional work.

When you asked me in your letter if I had the experience of a silent observer who is able to say what she knows when I am [writing in my journal] I was going to answer no, but over the course of the packet cycle I began to see that a little bit. I would just suddenly know things (mostly about myself and how I was feeling) that I hadn't consciously known before I was writing.

Processing a day ­ yes - getting rid of the residue of the day. This can mean a couple of things. One is that just writing down what has happened seems to lay strong events to rest, that otherwise will keep getting chewed on like cud. The other has specifically to do with connecting unconscious and conscious parts, for instance consciously noticing what the uncon registered but the con didn't, in some of the moments of the day. It might be feeling something or understanding something or just consciously seeing or hearing some quality. That kind of processing has a feeling of resolving. I love when it happens. I think the ability to do that is something that a journal builds, because the speed of writing is different than the speed of first experience. In writing there is time to let the experience re-form slowly and maybe more fully. The essence of it is I think that the focus, privacy and slowness of writing can connect the two hemispheres in ways they aren't connected in ordinary experience.

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Using journals and notebooks later

The other thing I use my journal for is to record insights (mostly just because writing them down helps me internalize them).

Do you go back over them too? Synthesize them? Make notes from your notes?

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Not everything is text ­ replying to Barbara Mor

Consider Text/Context. For circa 45-50,000 years of preliterate homo-sapiens time on earth, our Human Text was the same as our Human Context: the Natural Worldthis contextual world - all there was, 24/7 and your dreams - was read as simultaneous pragmatic and sacred Text. Barbara Mor

I have a large quarrel with that manner of speaking, which I know is fashionable. A context is not a text. It is important to keep the difference clear. There are no texts until there is writing. Texts have a derivative mode of being: they rely upon and are wholly dependent upon a real world which is not text. We do not read the world: we respond intelligently within it. Speaking of that response as reading is a category mistake: reading is actually a tiny subcategory of the larger category which is intelligent response. I believe the wish to call the real world a text is profoundly patriarchal in impulse, a desire to negate what precedes and continues to be greater than male defensive mentality.

Again, it is a category mistake to conflate knowing with scientific data or 'information': use of scientific data is a tiny subcategory of the knowing built into bodies of all kinds (and not just human).

What's Left, literally, is The Sinister: the Body's Left Side (Dark Side of the Mother, the Flesh & the Heart): the nagual. This realm which hyper-rational males, positioned along all points of the ideological spectrum, have Dexterously (righteously) marked off as profane, errant, forbiddenEschewing the Dark Side, the Left has no Vision Females are the Original Left

Yes, but this is spoken very dichotomously. Male defense often involves refusal to feel and know the body as such (the whole body and not just the left side) (and since there really is nothing else, this implies that it involves a commitment to fantasy), but women use this defense as well. Everyone does. It is in fact a defense against early love and its vulnerabilities, and anyone's ego consciousness is premised on some form of that defense. When women see it only as a male aberrancy, they are doing what men do ­ projecting.

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With Layla on what writing is good for

In a way I am not sure what place writing holds in the world, how important it is if we are all living in touch with the Earth.

Here I have been thinking: why am I writing? Writing: arrogance and often to flee to the head and out of the body, or out of the head even out of body altogether to some other world free of these problems. I think it is only worth it as a gift. It is only worth it if I write what the Earth herself wants people to hear.

This is a good doubt to start with: understanding that a moment writing is a moment away, so that the cost has to be considered.

I think of the best writing as making a mind. The writer makes a mind that's out-of-the-ordinary, by means of struggle, dedication, sacrifice of ego's weaknesses: many gifts given to writing itself. And then that mind becomes a gift to anyone: readers can become it, for a while, or for longer. And if it is a mind that is more able to see and feel and defend the world, then that is how writing becomes a gift to Earth ­ by making able people. So I don't think it is about saying something in particular, it is more about making competent selves through writing.

*

Slow language: Anna on language and felt sense

Rather, the unconscious is a "holistic mode of organizing experience and responding to reality that operates outside the normal span of focal attention"

What is unconscious, then, are the holistic ways in which the body-mind organism experiences its interconnectedness with reality, prior to the articulations of conscious thought"

Eugene Gendlin, teacher of the psychotherapeutic technique called Focusing, which draws one's attention to a felt sense within their experience.

The felt sense is the pre-articulate fabric underneath a person's words and actions To be able to articulate this non-verbal felt sense, our attention needs to "shift to a more diffuse attention that allows a holistic scanning of experiential intricacy"(54).

Gendlin found that most forward changes happened when clients were able to tap into and speak from their felt experience of the moment.

The felt sense is often diffused and blurry; it is preconscious. The challenge is to stay with the unknown of this felt sense in order to move authentically from it.

Welwood describes psychological inquiry as an unfolding process, which may begin with this felt sense. We tend to talk about our felt sense, instead of speaking directly from it. The unfolding happens when we zig-zag back and forth between our pre-articulate felt sense and our speech.

Unfolding in therapy has three main stages: widening into the felt sense of a situation, direct inquiry into this sense, and articulation from various angles until its crux is discovered, thereby relieving the stuckness.

Max Picard's suggestion that speech is powerful and affective when it originates from the large space beyond words; speech that moves "from silence into the word and then back again into the silence and so on, so that the word always comes from the center of silence...Mere verbal noise, on the other hand, moves uninterruptedly along the horizontal line of the sentence...Words that merely come from other words are hard...and lonely" (93).

I started with a diffuse felt sense of what I wanted to say

This is me learning that there is, in Welwood's terms, a holistic organizing principle that sees and comprehends a larger field than my conscious awareness.

The "x" is our conscious awareness, but we actually have access to the rest of the circle, we just don't know it.

Becoming connected to one's felt sense is, I think, a critical component of engaging in education in this unconscious exploratory manner.

the felt sense, and unconscious process in general, make it possible for a path to emerge, one step at a time.

I think a deeper understanding of this felt sense was something I was craving, and is what is transfixing, surprising, and shocking me as I read fiction this semester.



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