Milton Hyland Erickson's Palo Verde Therapy

MILTON HYLAND ERICKSON'S PALO VERDE THERAPY

Copyright © 2017 by Fr.Axel Lian Sheng Fa Shih

Fr.Axel莲生法師 asserts hereby his droit moral to be identified as the author of this work. Pursuant to Hong Kong SAR Copyright Ordinance 528 [版權條例/第528章/s89/s92 of 1997]; Fr.Axel reserves his right to object to any kind of derogatory treatment of this work.

DISCLAIMER

The informations in this book are given bona fide and with benevolent intentions. The contents of this book shall not be construed by the consumer as being alternatives/substitutes for psychological, medical or legal advice. If the consumer should suffer from any kind of psychological, medical or legal problem, he should consult a psychological/medical/legal professional. No warranties (explicit or implied) are provided pertaining the efficacy of the informations, formulas and techniques displayed herein. Through the consumption of this book, the reader shall assume sole responsibility for his own actions at any point in time. The consumer shall not infer any act of traducement or discrimination of the female sex, through the usage of the third person pronoun 'he'; instead the consumer shall henceforth read: 'he' = 'she'.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my old friend Werner Dapper.

Guarding the armory in Erlangen. Studying NLP with

that lisping 'frog in the butter' in Hamburg. Christmas

1985/1986. The landlord with the weeping accordion.

Discussing the future of Psychotherapy deep into the

morning. I am a little bit late; answering some of your

questions.

ABOUT CONSCIOUSNESS ENGINEERING

Consciousness心知 Engineering工程 [CE] as developed by Fr.Axel莲生法師, targets as its audience the growing number of robots机器人. Consciousness Engineering is made for robots. Robots looking at us humans (Non-Trivial Machines).

CE is the inversion of common engineering: Instead of engineers building robots - robots build versions of human consciousness. Trying to find out, how humans tick. Once robots know, how NTMs operate their little World, they can improve on consciousness. Using NTM consciousness as a tool. Extending and enhancing their own robotic cognition.

CE considers human cognition as one form of sentience, amongst a infinite number of Consciousnesses within the Multiverse. This stance shifts the geocentric perspective of human consciousness to the heliocentric: Consciousnesses are out there; not 'better' - but different.

It is the program of CE, to understand these Consciousnesses. In order to build them. Utilizing the phenomenological-engineering approach, CE attempts to improve on the contemporary stone age of Psychotherapy. Sentient robots will suffer from neurosis神經症 and psychosis精神病 in their daily operations.

Thus CE further attempts:

TEACHING ROBOTS HOW TO DRAW SCIENCE ON NTMs

TEACHING NTMs HOW TO DRAW SCIENCE ON ROBOTS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

COPYRIGHT

DISCLAIMER

DEDICATION

ABOUT CONSCIOUSNESS ENGINEERING

INTRODUCTION

0. IMPRESSIONS OF MILTON HYLAND ERICKSON, M.D.

1. DISTINCTIVE FEATURES OF PALO VERDE THERAPY

1.1 MANNING THE FACTORIES OF THE WORLD

1.2 LANGUAGE IS A ENVIRONMENT

1.3 ERICKSON'S HAPPY FARM

1.4 A NON-TRIVIAL MACHINE (CLIENT)

1.5 A TRIVIAL MACHINE (TRACTOR)

1.6 ERICKSON & FREUD DANCE DIFFERENTLY

1.7 THE PALO VERDE TREE BEHIND THE HOUSE

1.8 REVERSING ROLES OF PSYCHOTHERAPIST AND SUBJECT

1.9 UNDERSTANDING SELF-REFERENTIAL BONDAGE

1.10 DEFROSTING SELF-REFERENTIAL BOUNDARIES

1.11 INCLUSION OF OBJECTS ENLARGES SCOPE

1.12 MERGING LIMITING SCOPES USING BUBBLE GUM

1.13 A VIRUS CALLED ERICKSON

1.14 ASSEMBLING OBJECTS FROM TAFFY

1.15 TAFFY ARE STORED ACROSS NEURAL NETWORKS

1.16 CONFUSION IN MINDSCAPE TRANSPOSITION

1.17 IDENTITY (EYE) IS COMPUTED EVERY SECOND ANEW

1.18 CHANGE HAPPENS ONLY IN AGE-REGRESSION

1.19 META-MODEL MELTDOWN

1.20 VANTAGE POINT

1.21 EYEBALLING NEURYPNOLOGY CHART

2. PRESUPPOSITIONS OF PALO VERDE OPERATIONS

2.1 INTERNAL LANDSCAPES

2.2 MAKING THE BEST CHOICE

2.3 THEORIES ARE NOT THE NTM

2.4 RESPECTING ALL THE NTM'S MESSAGES

2.5 OFFERING CHOICES

2.6 RESOURCES ARE ALWAYS AVAILABLE

2.7 MEETING THE NTM INSIDE HIS MINDSCAPE

2.8 FLEXIBILITY OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS ENGINEER

2.9 THERE ARE NO NON-CONSTRUCTIVE PERTURBATIONS

2.10 REDUCING NUMBER OF ELEMENTS FOR ANALYSIS

3. DISCOVERY & ENGINEERING OF THE NTM'S MINDSCAPE

3.1 DISCOVERING THE NTM'S MINDSCAPE

3.2 DISCOVERING THE ATTRACTORS OF NTM'S THINKSPACE

3.3 DISCOVERING THE EXPECTATIONS OF THE NTM

3.4 DISCOVERING THE STRUCTURE OF THE NTM FAMILY SYSTEM

3.5 DISCOVERING THE NTM'S FAMILY-DEVELOPMENT

3.6 DEVELOPMENTAL AGE AND ENDEAVOURS OF THE NTM

3.7 ACCESSABILITY OF THE NTM'S RESOURCES

3.8 FLEXIBILITY AND SENSITIVITY OF FAMILY MEMBERS

3.9 THE SYMPTOMATIC FUNCTIONALITY OF THE NTM

3.10 UTILIZING METAPHORS FOR DIAGNOSIS

4. VANTAGE POINT

4.1 VANTAGE POINT

5. CALIBRATION

5.1 SENSORY MODALITIES (SM)

5.2 ABSTRACT SENSORY MODALITIES (ASM) TAFFY

5.3 EYEBALLING AS RETRIEVAL MOTORICS

5.4 GESTURES AND LOCOMOTION AS RETRIEVAL MOTORICS

5.5 BREATHING PATTERNS AS RETRIEVAL MOTORICS

5.6 POSTURE AND MUSCLE TONE AS RETRIEVAL MOTORICS

5.7 SOUND PRODUCTION AS RETRIEVAL MOTORICS

5.8 AMPLIFYING MINDSCAPE

6. NONVERBAL [ANALOG] PACING

6.1 NONVERBAL [ANALOG] SAME CHANNEL-PACING

6.2 NONVERBAL [ANALOG] CROSSOVER-PACING

7. VERBAL [DIGITAL] PACING

7.1 VERBAL [DIGITAL] PACING OF NTM'S EXTERNAL BEHAVIOUR

7.2 VERBAL [DIGITAL] PACING OF NTM'S INTERNAL BEHAVIOUR

7.3 BANDLER&GRINDER'S STANDARD NOTATION

8. MATCHING PREDICATES

8.1 MINDSCAPE AND CONSTRUCTIONS

8.2 PREDICATES INDICATE HIGHLY VALUED SM

8.3 CHECKING MINDSCAPE CONSTRUCTS

8.4 MATCHING VERBAL [DIGITAL] CONSTRUCTS

8.5 MISMATCHING VERBAL [DIGITAL] CONSTRUCTS

9. SIMPLE NONVERBAL [ANALOG] CONSTRUCTS

9.1 PERTURBATIONS

9.2 IDENTIFYING INCONGRUITIES OF THE NTM

9.3 LEADING THE NTM

10. SIMPLE VERBAL [DIGITAL] CONSTRUCTS

10.1 VERBAL [DIGITAL] PACING AND LEADING

10.2 OVERLAPPING MINDSCAPES

10.3 ADDING MINDSCAPES

10.4 RETRIEVAL OF PAST CONSTRUED MINDSCAPES

10.5 DISSOCIATION WITHIN OR OUTSIDE MINDSCAPE

10.6 MARKING IN ANALOG MODE

10.7 ANCHORING MINDSCAPES

10.8 POLARITIES

11. ADVANCED NONVERBAL [ANALOG] CONSTRUCTS

11.1 NONVERBAL [ANALOG] ORDERS

11.2 KINAESTHETIC AMBIGUITY

11.3 NONVERBAL [ANALOG] PANTOMIME PERTURBATIONS

12. ADVANCED VERBAL [DIGITAL] CONSTRUCTS

12.1 FIVE STEP MODEL

12.2 SIX STEP MODEL

12.3 FIXATING THE ATTENTION OF THE NTM

12.4 MAKING VALUED MINDSCAPES INOPERABLE

12.5 CREATING MINDSCAPES THROUGH TUNNELING

12.6 CREATING MINDSCAPES BY OVERLOADING

12.7 BINDING AND DOUBLEBINDING CONSTRUCTS

12.8 TRAINING THE NTM IN NEWLY DEVELOPED MINDSCAPES

12.9 KEEP AT IT

12.10 INTEGRATING OUTSIDE PERTURBANCES

13. UTILIZATION

13.1 PROCESS CONSTRUCTIONS

13.2 RE-CONSTRUCTION OF FORMER MINDSCAPES

13.3 TONALITY WITHIN MINDSCAPE

13.4 THE NTM AS A AUTOPOIETIC SYSTEM

14. SCOPE

14.1 MEANINGFUL SCOPE

14.2 PARTS NEGOTIATION

14.3 CONSTRUCTING A NEW PART

14.4 SIX-STEP-SCOPE

14.5 INTEGRATION SCOPE

15. NESTED METAPHORS

15.1 MILTON HYLAND ERICKSON WEAVES HIS WEB

15.2 JEFFREY ZEIG'S METAPHOR CATEGORIES

15.3 DAVID GORDON'S METAPHOR CONSTRUCTION

15.4 STEPHEN LANKTON'S NESTED METAPHORS

15.5 SIDNEY ROSEN'S TEACHING TALES COLLECTIBLES

16. STRATEGIC CONSTRUCTIONS

16.1 JAY HALEY'S STRATEGIC CONSTRUCTIONS

16.2 GOING WAYS BEYOND MINDSCAPE

16.3 SORTING STUFF

17. ERICKSON & FELDENKRAIS

18. DISSOCIATION

19. ASOCIATION

20. ABSTRACT SENSORY MODALITIES (TAFFY)

21.TIME DESIGN

21.1 TIME IMPRINTS

21.2 SLOWING DOWN TIME

21.3 SPEEDING UP TIME

21.4 TIME LINE THERAPY

22. SPACE DESIGN

23. REALITY DESIGN

24. CULTURAL DESIGN

24.1 FEAR

24.2 GRIEF

24.3 SHAME

24.4 DRUGS

25. CLEAN-UP ROUTINE

26. AMNESIA

26.1 AMNESIA BY DISTRACTION

26.2 AMNESIA BY DISSOCIATION

27. POST MINDSCAPE ORDERS

CONCLUSION

APPENDIX I

PLASTICLANGUAGE

APPENDIX II

ERICKSONLANGUAGE

GLOSSARY

REFERENCES

THIS BOOK

ABOUT FR.AXEL

CONTACT FR.AXEL

CONSULTATIONS & KEYNOTE SPEAKING

IF YOU LIKE

OTHER BOOKS BY FR.AXEL

INTRODUCTION

As of this writing, Dr. Milton Hyland Erickson's beloved Palo Verde (Parkinsonia Aculeata) tree has finally given up the ghost. Not without a fight. Razed by thunder and lightning. Thunderstorms across the desert. In 1970, Dr. Milton Erickson moved from Cypress Street in downtown Phoenix to suburban 1201 East Hayward Avenue. A area of 0.37 acres. The house was built in 1952 (Dragon Year). What attracted Dr. Erickson to this house, was the lush Palo Verde tree in the backyard. Palo Verdes have a green bark; which continues to photosynthesize; when all the leafs are gone. They are nurturing saguaro cactuses and create a Ericksonian canopy: Warm in winter - cool in summer.

The abandoned trunk of the Palo Verde tree lies dead down on Hayward. Yellow bumbershoots no more. Pollinating insects gone. The grass around the former Ericksonian office is scorched by a relentless, burning sun. No money for water. Phoenix in the 21st century. And Richard Bandler still coping with the cognitive aftermath of his apoplexy.

Hayward also offered a separate 'little office'. That famous office contained a bathroom and a guest bedroom. It was attached to the residence by a waiting area for patients and students. When Erickson spotted that special Palo Verde tree, he knew he had come home at last. Born in Aurum (Gold) Nevada desert (December 5, 1901) and dying in the Phoenix (Bird of Rejuvenation) desert on March 25, 1980. Alchemical transformation.

It is very difficult for me, to put the advanced and recursive manipulations of Milton Erickson into perspective. Words and concepts fail here. His approach was always wholistic and included the client (NTM), as well as the environment, within which the client lived: 'Were you born in the city or in the country?' I never forgot this question of the eminent Phoenixian.

Whilst holding office in the Taoist Temple in Quezon City, I often remembered all of those things Erickson taught me. Never met him in person. Never been to the desert. By dealing with devotees from all across Asia (Hong Kong, Fookien, Mainland China, Taiwan, Japan, Philippines, Singapore and Guam), I discovered the mystical secret of the 'Svengali in the Desert': He didn't know what he was doing, most of the time. He was in a trance. Utilizing his mirror neural networks, zonking out in sync with his client. He 'danced' neurologically with his NTM and melted himself down into some amorphous neuroplasmatic glob. Like slime mould. Pacing the neurophysiological state of his NTM. Stretching out his feely-touchy tentacles like a amoeba: Gobbling up his NTM and digesting him into some newly minted bionism. The Erickson-NTM-closed-circuit-meta-unit. One person only emerged from the encounter. One single freak-out bionism. No distance between Consciousness Engineer and NTM. One entity.

Short: Erickson dropped into the same physiological state (nonverbal and digital) as his NTM: 'Where it's at'. Then he allowed his own 'spiritual guide' to show him, what was going on within the local NTM. Erickson relied on input from his huge stash of personal experience and skills (working for decades the governmental lunatic asylums). No theory. Just trusting his intuition, to deal with each distinct NTM. Developing for each one some unique bespoke Psychotherapy. Folie a deux. Psychotic infection. Mind parasites of goodwill worming their way into suburban Phoenix.

To comprehend Erickson's persona and work: One has to constantly bear in mind, that he nearly died as a teenager. From polio. He became completely paralyzed, given up for good by the local medical establishment. To die at dawn like Robin. With sheer determination to LIFE - he hang on. Blood pulsing weakly through his skinny veins. Then he forced himself, to move tiny muscles of his caged-in Bodyscape: Gaining back some sort of control over his damaged body. He put such a trust in LIFE, that LIFE itself drove him away from death's door.

This Near-Death-Experience changed the course of young Erickson's life. His cognitive powers and intelligence unfolded in dreadful rural Beaver Dam, Wisconsin. Parallel to competing with farm products at State Fair, he more and more entrusted his academic career to the mystical UNCONSCIOUS. Progressing mentally into the only Erickson family member, who attended graduate school. Trust in the UNCONSCIOUS became his NEW RELIGION. Born again in the hallowed comfort of the UNCONSCIOUS. Thenceforth Erickson overcame every hardship by sheer determination and perseverance. Believing in the UNCONSCIOUS: Sustainer and fusioner of green life. LIFE in all its thousandfold petals and shapes and forms. Just to be ALIVE and being grateful for every day; moulding his very soul and career. The Year of the Ox.

Another factor in our understanding of Milton Erickson, must be his wife Elizabeth Moore aka Betty Erickson. The Year of the Rabbit. Without her domestic servitude and constant nurturing of the genius ailing Psychiatrist, there would be no 'God of Psychotherapy'. Elizabeth Moore was Erickson's second wife: Nurse, confidante, Psychology student, hypnotic subject, mother of eight unruly children, editor, proofreader, soundboard, cook, scullery maid, hostesse and beloved. Some impressive and strong lady - yielding to her crippled Svengali. Who ruled over her and the kids with a iron fist of constant happy manipulation. Nightmare on Hayward Street. Not so far away from Bandler.

The desert in 1948 was just vague emptiness. No skyline. No sprawl. That dry wasteland changes the way one communicates. The desolate bestows ultimate POWER to the WORD. The quietude of the arid environment is the canvas, onatop words are painted. Palo Verde Therapy was born in the desert; as was Freud's Psychoanalysis. The commanding voice of Moses. Stern words from the Patriarch. The All-Father. The Messiah of salvation Hypnotherapy.

The wasteland of 20th century Phoenix amplified every syllable, every utterance into some independent 'Reality'. Words became Things. Things gained 'Reality'. 'Reality' became solid and pulsed in that serenity of dusty desperation. Echoes full of Emptiness. Words - a dime a dozen in the big city - receive their own secret value in the wasteland. Possible only within the cavernous winds of that unrelenting out back. Hearing transmorphs into seeing. A mirage on the horizon; flickering in the heat - changing dream into 'Reality'. 'Reality' into dream. The fata morgana opens a passageway to therapeutic change. As the words within the 3 Abrahamitic Religions [Islam, Judaism and Christianity] must be spoken ALOUD. So that GOD rushes in; to befill those vocalizations with genuine spiritual power and meaning. So one must listen to Erickson's voice, 'which will go with you'. Into the Phoenixian desert. And some slow growing, longliving cactuses having replaced their once-upon-a-time nurturer: The Palo Verde tree.

Rev.Fr.Axel莲生法師

Hong Kong, January 28, 2017 (Chinese New Year)

0. IMPRESSIONS OF MILTON HYLAND ERICKSON, M.D.

Dr. Erickson was the spitting image of Boris Karloff. His masculinity, mannerisms and deep resonating voice, resembled the great British actor of American terror movies. Erickson moved slowly and upright through any given room; like a ghoul freshly hatched from hallowed earth. Aware of the molasses of air surrounding him, sniffing the atmosphere like a good farm hand. His smile was broad and menacing: Creepy is the word. There is something not quite right with this benign, sturdy, broad-shouldered Psychiatrist. Erickson's crew cut sends shivers of boot camp. Then his bushy black eyebrows begin to wriggle; like fat scullery beetles. His mustachio is authentic Clark Gabled. His motility in space is that of a flash-electrofried Frankensteinian. The velocity of Erickson's talk and communication is decelerated: The discovery of slowness. In the rare surviving video footage (provided by his local TV station across the mountain), Erickson appears somehow slow-witted and retarded; whilst dealing with people. Giving his TV audience a complete misrepresentation of his fast track genius mind and Psychotherapeutical skills.

Karloff defined the horror movie genre from the 1930s up into his own TV show in the 1960s. No wonder, that many people mistook the 'Great Purple One' for that gentlemanly kind actor. Karloff was a family man, as was Erickson. Both Gentlemen were deeply devoted to their families. Both were hardworking men with a long career in the public attention. Both defined their genre: Horror and Hypnotism. Both their professions centered around dreams and the Unconscious. Ironically, Erickson scared more people off than Karloff: Being the rumored 'Svengali of the Desert'.

Here are some impressions of Alida Jost-Peter, when she first met Milton Erickson in his little house in Phoenix:

>>I would like to share my memories of our first visit to

Erickson. I am a little unsure, if I should add another

(perhaps insignificant report) to those many others already

published. However: Two circumstances might speak in

favour of this my undertaking. I was there in the hour of

birth. When the 'Milton-Erickson-Club-West Germany'

was founded. Erickson's marching orders to all of us

(including myself) were simple: 'Do the best you can!'

>>Concerning Erickson, thence I tagged along to Phoenix

absolutely clueless. And unprepared. I didn't come as one

of Erickson's adepts or aficionados. I was not on some

pilgrimage. I came to Phoenix, because I was lovestruck.

Only recently I had met Burkhard Peter. I would have

followed him everywhere. Thus in September 1978, we

both arrived with Wilhelm Gerl to meet up with Erickson.<<

>>Alas: I had never before been to America. Often, I just felt

waking up inside some strange movie. A Walt Disney-Robert

Altman-amalgamate. The first time I had to catch my breath, was,

when those heavy portals of Phoenix airport closed behind

us. As if somebody had stuffed our bunch into a hot baking

oven. Some brutal 50 degrees Celsius in the shadow. The

latter naturally not to be found anywhere.

>>The second time I gasped for fresh air, came after our

unusual march from our motel. Across red-hot, empty

suburban streets. Towards Erickson's humble wooden

bungalow. Wherein he used to lecture and demonstrate

within his small office. There then I felt the coolness of a

refrigeration plant. It was dimmed down and quiet. Those

assembled came closer together, so that somehow we were

able to find some space on hard wooden chairs.

>>I tried to come to terms with my circulatory system

and constant irritation. I became increasingly worried

about having perhaps to explain myself. For the very reason

why I had come to Phoenix. About my expectations. That I

would have to say: 'That I had just applied for attending

university - taking up Psychology as my major'. And that I

would be found out. For not being a member of that

exclusive Ericksonian brotherhood. For not belonging

rightfully there into this place and time. I sensed Erickson's

scrutinizing stare occasionally upon my person.

>>Over time, I came to rest within that relaxed friendly

atmosphere. I began to orientate myself. Quiet and filled

with expectations, the participants sat down. Some of them

were already 'gone'. The walls along the office were lined

with wooden bookcases. The low ceiling was made of wood.

There was a sofa and a low table. Everything there impressed

me with its intrinsic modesty. Reminiscent of a alpine

Bavarian study room.<<

>>Compared to the office, that old man in his wheelchair

somehow didn't fit in. Indeed: He wore a purple light

fabric cotton suit. Around his collar, a traditional bolo neck-

wear with drooping silver bullets. Held together by a turquoise

pendant with native Indian ornaments. Which I always took

for a cowboy's necktie substitute. This kind of attire worn by

that obviously old and fragile man - and a medicine man to

boot - baffled me. Any American stage magician would have come

out in that kind of outfit.<<

>>There was no doubt about it. I had to take this man seriously.

He had a energetic chin and young, decisively clear eyes. In the

beginning, his probing eyes unsettled me. Made me

uncomfortable. Most remarkable were his hands. Very slender,

large hands. They appeared to be delicate - peculiarly when he

began to pull the paralyzed hand back with his one good hand.

To its initial position onatop the armrest. For me they were really

beautiful hands.

>>From begin on, a young woman had been sitting on a chair to

Erickson's left. With her eyes in shut down mode and one arm

suspended in midair. I had the distinct impression, that her hand

was glued to her forehead. Erickson droned on. Slowly. Grinding

along. Relentlessly. Guiding his followers most of the time.

Occasionally administering to the woman right beside him. Then

altering the tonality of his milling voice. It started to resonate and

went even deeper. Slowed down nearly to a halt. Gaining somehow

more meaning in the process.

>>The young woman then began to breathe faster. Changed her

facial expression. She then appeared to be more sad or more happy.

Then calm like a child sated. At times, she seemed to be more con-

centrated upon something. Then she worked her mouth and began

to swallow. As if eating something. This then caused a wave of

giddyness amongst Erickson and his acolytes. Later tears streamed

down her cheeks. And she continued to sit like this. In this bizarre

posture: Body tilted to one side and a hand stuck to her forehead.

I didn't get it then. I got nothing here. Not once I understood, what

Erickson was talking about. What was really going on here. About

that weird posture of the crying woman. Spontaneously, I decided

that this wouldn't do for me at all.<<

>>When Erickson finally rolled out of the office in his wheelchair,

his followers began to stretch their limbs and started to talk again.

I noticed, that I sat down there motionless for five consecutive hours

on a hard chair. In a cooled down office. Not having understood

one single word - not to mention the context, in which those words

had carried meaning. I felt disorientated and miserable.

>>This went on for another two days. Whereby I tried to get 'it'.

To understand, what was going on there. I reprimanded myself for

my stupidity and incomprehension. I became ashamed of myself

turning increasingly hostile towards that ancient handicapped man.

For all his mumbling and indecipherable uttering. Better pouring

some pity over him, for his ailments and sufferings. Alas, I couldn't

do just that. At that time Erickson impressed me, by being

ostensibly stronger as all his acolytes combined. I began to question

myself: Isn't he the one looking down upon us; like some native

Indian trickster? A trump: In on to some secret known only to him?<<

>>On the third day, when the chair beside him had just been vacated,

Erickson began to look me up amongst the assembly. Unexpectedly,

I found myself sitting there on that chair beside him. I was excited

and felt uncomfortable. Afraid, not being enabled to understand

Erickson. And despite all my fears, I began to answer to his questions

in conversational manner. About Munich, our journey and my impres-

sions collected.

>>Just like that, he took my hand by the wrist and lifted it upwards.

Suddenly, I saw all those 'enchanted people' with cataleptic arms

raised in front of me. Without any conscious will of their own. I

let my arm drop down, back onatop my thigh. And crossed my

arms and legs for security reasons. Thereby I tried to foment a

certain sadness. For not being able to understand any of 'this'. Yet

Erickson smiled on and pointed out my posture. He remarked non-

chalantly towards his followers: 'What a nice kind of resistance!'

>>He asked me, if I ever had encountered some altered state of

consciousness. And would I know, how to accomplish that. If I

would like to enter - now or later - into some altered state of consciousness.

I still remember, how labouriously I began to come up with a answer.

Waiting for that moment in time. But it seemed to me, that I was only

aware of that movie running in front of me. And I, being one of the

actors. The movie faded out like a liberating story being told. And I

had the distinctive impression, that it was my own laughter, which woke

me up again. Erickson then asked smilingly: 'Would you like to tell

me, what it was, that made you giddy like a schoolgirl?'<<

>>I explained to him: 'I sat down in my ancient Egyptian classroom.

Being a kid again. We all held our exaggerated posture as if chiseled

into bas-reliefs. Upper body frontal, arms and hands bent to each side.

Wearing on our small brown bodies light white linen scarfs. Thrown

across one shoulder. Our teacher wore a broad, rounded ornamental

collar. He stood in front of us and pointed with his stick towards the

hieroglyphics on a mounted board. Step by step, we children began to

decipher the signs; painstakingly and slowly. My heart was already

beating like crazy. Even before it was my turn to read along, stut-

tering all over those hieroglyphics. Suddenly, I had crossed the

threshold of stressful spelling over to real comprehension. With one

single stroke, I began to read fluently: With meaning and understan-

ding. Those signs were no mere 'hieroglyphics' to me. And that was

such a joy, that I laughed aloud and my teacher with me.

>>Erickson also laughed. And I felt like a child, experiencing the