Tag: healing

The Dream Temple of Asclepius: A Portal to Healing Through Dreams

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In the ancient world, dreams were not merely fleeting nocturnal experiences but were considered profound sources of wisdom and guidance. People believed that their dreams held the key to understanding their deepest desires, as well as a means of connecting with the power of the divine. 

Dream incubation was a revered and ritualistic practice that held a central place in the cultures of many civilizations, including the Greeks, Egyptians, and Romans of the time. Those seeking divine guidance or healing would prepare for dream incubation by participating in elaborate ceremonies.

These rituals might include offerings to deities, purifications, and the recitation of prayers or invocations. The dreamers would then retire to a specially designated sleeping chamber where they would await a visitation or guidance in their dreams.

Among the many temples and sanctuaries dedicated to dream incubation, the dream temple of Asclepius stands as one of the most famous and enduring institutions of its kind. It served as a sacred space for healing and spiritual growth through the incubation and interpretation of dreams.

The Mythical Origins of Asclepius

Asclepius, the ancient Greek god of medicine and healing, played a central role in the temple’s legacy. According to Greek mythology, Asclepius was the son of Apollo and Coronis. His powerful ability to heal made him revered among mortals and gods alike. As the legend goes, Asclepius became so skilled in the art of medicine that he could even revive the dead.

This began to raise the concern of Hades, the god of the underworld, and he complained to Zeus. In response, Zeus struck Asclepius down with a lightning bolt, but later, recognizing the necessity of Asclepius’s talents, placed him among the stars as the constellation Ophiuchus, the Serpent Bearer.

Asclepius is linked to modern medicine today through the symbol of the Rod of Asclepius, still used by many medical associations today.

The Dream Temple: A Gateway to Healing

Asclepius’s enduring connection to healing and the divine led to the establishment of dream temples in his honor, with the most famous of these located in Epidaurus, Greece. These sanctuaries provided a sacred space for individuals seeking cures for their ailments and answers to their questions through dreams. The temple’s design and environment were carefully curated to promote an atmosphere conducive to dream incubation.

One of the most striking features of the temple was the Abaton, a specially designed sleeping chamber that resembled a cave. People seeking healing or guidance would stay in the Abaton after participating in certain rituals designed to incubate a dream.

They would spend the night there, hoping to receive a divine dream from Asclepius, who often appeared in dreams as a physician offering guidance and remedies. These dreams could contain instructions for treatments, the identification of herbs for healing, or simply comforting reassurance.

The dream seekers would then recount their dreams to the temple priests or priestesses, known as therapeutes, who would interpret the dreams and provide guidance for the necessary course of action. This practice of dream incubation and interpretation formed the heart of the temple’s therapeutic methods. It was not merely a place for physical healing but also a sanctuary for the nourishment of the soul.

Legacy and Influence

The dream temple of Asclepius has left a mark on the history of medicine, psychology, and spirituality. Its emphasis on the significance of dreams in the healing process predates many modern therapeutic practices. The temple served as a precursor to contemporary psychotherapy and the exploration of the subconscious mind.

In many ways, the practice of dream incubation and interpretation foreshadowed the vital role dreams play in understanding ourselves and becoming more aware of our inner experience. Today, practices like dream analysis, Jungian psychology, and dream tending can trace their roots back to the ancient dream incubation practices of the temple.

The dream temple of Asclepius stands as a testament to the enduring belief in the power of dreams as a source of healing and insight. It was a place where individuals sought solace and answers, where the boundaries between the divine and human, the conscious and subconscious, blurred. 

The temple’s legacy continues to influence contemporary therapeutic and spiritual practices, reminding us of the profound wisdom that can be unlocked through the enigmatic world of dreams. 

Chiron in the 8th House: Delving into Deep Wounds and Creating Transformative Healing

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Astrology can be one of the most effective tools for self-discovery and introspection, providing insights into our personalities, life paths, and the challenges we may face along the way.

One celestial body that carries profound significance in astrological interpretations is Chiron, often referred to as the “wounded healer.”

When Chiron is placed in the 8th House of a natal chart, its presence brings a unique blend of intensity, transformation, and deep emotional healing.

Understanding Chiron

Before delving into Chiron’s placement in the 8th House, it’s essential to grasp the essence of Chiron itself. In astrology, Chiron is considered a “minor planet” or “asteroid” and symbolizes the archetype of the wounded healer.

According to ancient Greek mythology, Chiron was a centaur, a creature known for its dual nature, being part human and part horse.

However, Chiron was unique among all centaurs; he was wise, gentle, and profoundly skilled in the healing arts and various forms of knowledge. Chiron’s wisdom and compassion set him apart from his wild and often savage brethren.

The astrological significance of Chiron’s myth lies in his dual nature. According to the ancient myth, Chiron suffered a wound that was both incurable and eternal. This wound, often depicted as an arrow, was accidentally inflicted by Hercules, but with poison he had been given by Chiron himself.

Despite his immense knowledge and healing abilities, Chiron could not heal himself. This myth underscores the idea that even those who possess great wisdom and healing capacities are not immune to their own wounds and vulnerabilities.

In astrology, Chiron’s placement in a natal chart symbolizes an area of deep emotional and psychological wounds. However, it also reveals where individuals can become sources of healing and guidance for others. Chiron’s myth, therefore, teaches us that our own wounds can become sources of strength and that our deepest vulnerabilities can connect us with others in profound and transformative ways.

The 8th House: The House of Transformation

The 8th House in astrology is often associated with profound transformation, shared resources, death, rebirth, and intimate connections. It’s a house of intensity and depth, and when Chiron is located here, it amplifies these themes.

Chiron in the 8th House signifies a deep wound related to intimacy, trust, and shared resources. This wound could manifest as fear of vulnerability, difficulties in merging with others on a deep emotional level, or issues related to inheritance and joint finances.

Significance of Chiron in the 8th House

Individuals with Chiron in the 8th House are often drawn to experiences that force them to confront their deepest wounds. These challenges may present themselves through intense relationships, financial crises, or experiences of profound change. These experiences, while challenging, can ultimately be opportunities for growth and healing.

The 8th House rules over matters of intimacy and trust, and Chiron’s presence here can indicate significant wounds in these areas. Individuals may struggle with letting others in, fear betrayal, or grapple with issues of power and control in their relationships.

Chiron’s placement in the 8th House also bestows individuals with a unique ability to empathize with the pain of others. They can often become skilled healers or counselors, using their own experiences of healing and transformation to guide and support others on their journeys.

Over time, those with Chiron in the 8th House can develop remarkable resilience and inner strength. Their ability to confront and heal their deepest wounds gives them a sense of empowerment and a profound connection to the cycles of life, death, and rebirth.

Ultimately, Chiron in the 8th House represents the “dark night of the soul,” where individuals must confront their inner demons and face their fears head-on. It often represents a journey from woundedness to wisdom, where the individual can learn to harness their own transformative power. The symbolism of this placement is much like to that of the phoenix rising from its ashes—a powerful metaphor for rebirth and renewal.

Ultimately, this placement teaches us that our deepest wounds can be sources of strength and that through embracing our own vulnerability, we can facilitate powerful and enduring transformation in our lives and the lives of those around us.

Healing Chiron Issues in the 8th House

Understanding the archetypal significance of Chiron is just the first part of the process of healing issues associated with the 8th house

There are many types of practices that can help us process our inner experience and transmute what is in darkness or unconscious within. Seeking support in this way can provide us with the tools we need to navigate the depths of the 8th House and integrate the transformative power of Chiron. Let’s explore some of them:

Shadow Work

Shadow work is a profound psychological and spiritual practice that involves delving into the hidden, often unconscious aspects of the self—the shadow. With Chiron in the 8th House, this type of work takes on a heightened significance. To start engaging with the shadow in your own personal unconscious, you can start integrating these practices into your life:

Self-Reflection: Engage in regular self-reflection to identify recurring patterns, fears, and unresolved emotional wounds related to trust, intimacy, and shared resources.

Journaling: Maintain a journal to record dreams, thoughts, and emotions. Explore the symbolism and archetypal themes that arise during this process.

Therapy or Counseling: Seek guidance from a trained therapist or counselor, especially one who specializes in depth psychology or Jungian psychology. They can help individuals navigate the depths of their psyche and provide tools for healing.

Rituals and Ceremonies

Rituals serve as powerful symbolic acts that connect individuals with archetypal energies and facilitate transformation. When working with Chiron in the 8th House, consider incorporating some of these rituals into your practice as part of your healing journey:

New Moon Rituals: Align your healing work with the cycles of the Moon. New moon rituals, in particular, are excellent for setting intentions and releasing old wounds associated with Chiron’s placement.

Candle Magic: Light candles of specific colors associated with the 8th House (for example, deep red) to create an ambiance conducive to inner exploration and healing.

Meditation and Visualization: Use guided meditations and visualization techniques to journey into the depths of your subconscious, where Chiron’s wounds are often stored. Visualize these wounds transforming into sources of strength and wisdom.

Astrological Consultation: Consult with a skilled astrologer who specializes in Chiron placements and how to work with them. They can provide insights into your unique journey and offer guidance on harnessing the transformative potential of Chiron in the 8th House.

By engaging in practices meant to cultivate self-awareness and transformation, individuals can transmute their deepest wounds into sources of wisdom and strength. When working with these issues, we should also remember that any healing process is deeply personal and ongoing, and each person’s path is unique.

The bottom line is that with dedication, self-awareness, and the willingness to confront the depths of the psyche, Chiron’s placement in the 8th House can become a catalyst for profound inner changes and personal evolution.

Book Review | Healing Trauma by Peter Levine

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Healing Trauma is a groundbreaking book by Peter Levine that offers a fresh perspective on the treatment of trauma. The author has extensive experience in the field of trauma therapy and has developed a unique approach that combines Eastern wisdom with Western science.

The book begins by exploring the nature of trauma and its effects on the body and mind. Levine argues that trauma is not simply a psychological phenomenon, but a somatic one as well. Trauma is stored in the body, and unless it is released, it can continue to cause physical and emotional pain. He believes that by addressing the body’s response to trauma, we can begin to heal the wounds that have been inflicted.

Levine’s approach is based on his understanding of the body’s natural healing capacity. He believes that trauma can be healed by reconnecting with the body’s innate wisdom and by restoring the body’s natural balance. He explains that trauma disrupts the body’s natural rhythms, and that the key to healing is to restore these rhythms.

One of the most powerful aspects of Levine’s approach is his emphasis on the importance of grounding. He believes that trauma disconnects us from our bodies, and that grounding techniques can help us reconnect. He says, “Rebuilding connection is really the key to all of these exercises, because trauma is about a loss of connection, first to the body and self, and second to others and the environment.” Levine offers a variety of grounding exercises that are designed to help us feel more present in our bodies and to help us feel safe and secure.

Another key element of Levine’s approach is the use of somatic experiencing. This is a technique that helps individuals release the energy that has been trapped in their bodies as a result of trauma. Levine explains that trauma is often accompanied by intense physical sensations, and that these sensations can be released through somatic experiencing.

Levine’s approach is also deeply compassionate. He recognizes the suffering that trauma can cause, and he offers a gentle, compassionate approach to healing. He emphasizes the importance of self-care, and he encourages individuals to take responsibility for their own healing.

Overall, Healing Trauma is a powerful and important book that offers hope and healing to those who have suffered from trauma. Levine’s approach is based on a deep understanding of the body’s natural healing capacity, and his emphasis on grounding and somatic experiencing makes his approach both unique and effective. I highly recommend this book to anyone who has experienced trauma or wants to know more about how to help others who are struggling after a traumatic experience.

Inner Visions | February 4, 2021

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Journal Date: February 4th, 2021

I had another reiki session with Angelic yesterday.

As usual, it was a good experience. I feel like it was very healing.

This time I also had very interesting and intense visions while she was doing the energy healing.

It began as it usually does.

At first, I didn’t see very much at all. 

Then, shifting colors began appearing in my field of inner vision.

After a few more minutes, a more definite image began to emerge.

It took me by surprise.

The first image that appeared was a crocodile. 

It was not what I expected.

But I decided to just stay with it, allow it, follow it and see where it took me.

I followed it down the banks of the Nile River and ended up in Ancient Egypt. I saw the great civilization, and all of the magic that went on there. I could see the great cities, and the temples lit up at night.

And I tried to look for myself, to see if I was there, how I fit into all this.

And with that, I found myself somewhere else.

This time, it was morning, and I was in a garden, somewhere in or near Mexico City.

I was wearing a flowing white knee length dress and gold sandals, and my dog Beso was there with me, with a white and gold collar and leash set.

We walked together along a garden path until we reached an elegant temple in the middle of the tropical garden we were in.

Together, we walked up the stairs and stepped inside.

The inside of this temple was dazzlingly beautiful, and with its high vaulted ceilings and long expanses of glass windows stretching up towards the sky, had the look and feel of a renaissance cathedral.

I walked, with Beso beside me on his leash, down the long aisle towards the beautifully decorated altar.

Once we arrived at the front of the cathedral, I noticed another section of this temple which had caught my attention. I turned to my left and began walking in this direction.

This section of the temple appeared to be a museum, and it was much darker here than the rest of the space, the only light coming from the glass box display cases.

Stepping inside, I realized that this museum was dedicated to me.

Looking closer, I could see, yes, each display case held items or photographs of events from my past. It was arranged chronologically, starting at birth.

My first thought on seeing this was, “Oh no… I can’t go through this again.”

I heard a voice (which would later speak to me at similar critical times) answer, “Yes, you can. You can do this. It’s safe to see what there is to be seen here.”

So I took a step forward, and I continued.

It was difficult to go back through this reliquary containing my past. 

So much suffering was contained within these displays.

But there was beauty, and there were tender moments, some measure of sweetness, and little bit of joy, as well.

As I walked, there were moments that overwhelmed me, and I felt that I could not go on.

But as before, a voice from beyond encouraged me. “Keep going. You can. There is nothing for you to fear within these walls.”

So I did.

I walked and I looked and I took the time to feel for everything that came up.

I cried, very often. So many tears had to be shed.

But this time, they were tears of compassion, sympathy and love, filled with sadness for the girl and the woman I’d once been (rather than of shame and bitterness, as they had often come before).

I won’t spend much time now on the specifics of what I saw there–it’s nothing new, nothing I haven’t known about or written extensively on before by now.

What is important here is the journey I made through this memorial of my self, and how I felt and reacted to what was there.

After maybe 20 minutes in this process, I finally made it to the last display case, to the present moment and the end of the museum.

When I had arrived at the end of the final exhibit, all of a sudden the dark wing of the temple containing this museum lit up, and was now brightly lit with hundreds of candles and torches illuminating the beautifully decorated walls.

And now I could see up to the ceiling of this cathedral, where uncovered windows showed the brilliant, burning stars shining down into my corner of the cosmos.

It was very late, maybe 4 or 5am – an entire night had passed during my descent into my own personal underworld.

It felt like a signal that my descent was over. And I felt I was being honored with this beautiful display for having made it through.

I knew that soon, the sun would be rising outside, and that my time in this temple of the past was near its end. I felt I was being asked, “Do you have anything you would like to say before you leave here?”

And before I could think twice, I heard myself answer, “Thank you.”

And then immediately, another part of me responded with something like, “Really?? Thank you? Are you kidding me?”

“Well, yeah…” I shyly responded. Then, a little more surely, “I guess I am grateful – it got me here, didn’t it? It made me who I am. And I’m proud of that.”

Though I was still tearful as I lay there on the table in Angelic’s office (the “real,” physical me) had to smile a little: it was true. I was grateful. And yes, I was proud. I had made it. I had made it through to the other side of all that.

And though it seemed enough to simply have survived, what’s more, I knew that one day, I would say that I had triumphed.

At that point, I looked down at my wrist, and I saw some markings appear there.

They were the two tattoos that I have wanted to get, the infinity symbol on my left wrist, and a small black skull on my right, both drawn in the style of the Smith-Waite tarot.

And I remembered what I had recently heard Clarissa Pinkola Estés say about the scars that people like me carried:

“It’s never going to look like you never suffered. Although I say, be proud of your scars. It has everything to do with your strength and what you’ve endured. It’s a map, so to speak, a treasure map to the self, the deepest self.”

And then I heard a voice say, “You have nothing to be ashamed of anymore. You can leave all of that behind. It was never truly yours to carry in the first place.”

I acknowledged this was true. This is a major part of what the inner work of the last year has shown me: most of the shame I carried came from things which had been done to me, not by me. 

I carried the shame of my abusers, of my attackers, and those who had committed crimes against me.

I carried the burden of guilt that properly belong to those who had hurt me, the mother who hated me, the father who had refused to protect me from harm. 

I had created this structure of lies about myself and my life, all resting upon this false foundation: “It’s because you deserved it. If you had simply been better, they wouldn’t have ‘had’ to…”

Well, now I know better. Now I knew that the failings were not mine. I did not bear the responsibility, and I could not account for these sins of theirs.

The voice spoke again.

“There is nothing to fear here. You don’t have to be afraid any longer. You may return whenever you want to, and you will find only peace here.”

And with that, I was ready.

With little Beso next to me, I stepped outside the temple door into the early morning light.

The sun had not come fully over the horizon yet, but the sky was becoming lighter with each passing second.

Beso and I walked down the rear temple stairs, both of us now dressed in new clothes: he was in an adorable little white doggie tuxedo with a gold leash, while I now stood in a flowing floor length chiffon gown with a light white cape, all with gold details, as well as a golden necklace decorated with pearls, and similarly made matching earrings.

After walking down the stars, we stepped onto a garden path that first led to a fountain filled with flowing water.

I walked to it, and dipped my hands into the running water and brought it to my face, and with a white towel, cleansed myself before continuing down the garden trail.

It was here that I stepped onto what was now a grass-covered path with my bare feet. The sun was shining down on the earth, and the grass felt both warmed by the sun while retaining a certain earthy coolness belonging to the morning.

From there on, I walked barefoot on the grass with little Beso by my side until I reached a throne, also gold and ivory and decorated with pearls to match the clothes I was already wearing.

I sat down, and it was here that my gold and white crown appeared on my head.

I had made it.

I was now sovereign, ruler of my own kingdom.

I had learned how to belong to myself, discovered my own agency, and the right and ability to make decisions that would serve me and all that I oversaw.

Once I had been crowned and was comfortably seated on my throne, people began to arrive.

They were all dressed mostly in white, along with the addition of one bright primary color as an accessory (like a royal blue belt or a red scarf).

When all of the guests had arrived for the celebration we were to have, it made for a very vibrantly colorful and energetic garden party.

As they arrived, the guests spoke to me.

They welcome me to my kingdom.

They told me, “You made it.”

“We’ve been waiting for you.”

“We’re so glad you’re finally here.”

They were all so happy to see me.

And it turns out they had expected me, had wanted to spend time with me, had been waiting just for me.

So when everyone arrived, we had our celebration.

It was a very peaceful, calm and relaxed garden lunch. We sat at a table set in the grass, covered in white linen with gold place settings, and ate healthy fruit and salads, drinking only water, juice and green tea.

The conversation lasted long into the afternoon, and nothing very much in particular happened. We just laughed and smiled and talked and enjoyed each other’s company.

Around this point, I left the perspective of being in my own body within the vision, and the scene seemed to zoom out until I could see the entire globe, spinning slowly in the void of space. 

As it spun, day shifted into night and then again to day and back again, and the people continued on, with no interruption to the rhythm of their peaceful daily happenings. All was calm, all continued with grace, and a gentle and reassuring order prevailed.

I saw myself again (this time, in a new change of clothes–a white button down shirt and pants) go on to interact with new people, and take on the role of a healer and helper.

And this, too, like day and night, alternated in a graceful rhythm, becoming part of the pattern of a new life of purpose and contentment.

Marion Woodman & the Embodied, Conscious Feminine

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Marion Woodman (1928-2018) was a renowned Canadian Jungian analyst, author, and lecturer who dedicated her life to exploring the relationship between the body, psyche, and spirit. She is best known for her pioneering work in the field of feminine psychology and the embodiment of the soul.

Born in London, Ontario in 1928, Marion Woodman grew up in a strict Presbyterian family. Her childhood was marked by a sense of spiritual longing and a desire to understand the mysteries of the universe. She pursued this interest through the study of literature and mythology, earning a Bachelor of Arts in English from the University of Western Ontario in 1949.

Over the course of her career, Woodman became increasingly interested in the relationship between the body and the psyche. She believed that our bodies hold a wealth of wisdom and that by listening to the signals of the body, we can gain access to our deepest truths. She developed a form of therapy that uses movement, breath, and other embodied practices to help clients connect with their inner selves.

Woodman’s work was deeply informed by her own struggles with anorexia, which she battled throughout her life. She believed that her eating disorder was a manifestation of a deeper spiritual crisis, and that by working with the body, she could access the spiritual realm and find healing.

Woodman’s work on feminine psychology has had a profound impact on the field of psychology, and her insights into the ways in which the feminine has been repressed and suppressed in Western culture have helped to open up new avenues for healing and transformation.

One of Woodman’s most influential books on feminine psychology is “Addiction to Perfection,” which explores the ways in which women in particular have been socialized to strive for perfection at the expense of their own health and well-being. Woodman argues that this addiction to perfection is a form of self-destructive behavior that is rooted in a disconnection from the body and from the feminine. She believes that we have been conditioned to believe that our bodies are flawed, imperfect, and unworthy of love, and have been taught to value ourselves based on external criteria such as beauty, success, and achievement, rather than on the deeper qualities of the soul.

In “The Pregnant Virgin,” Woodman explores the archetype of the Virgin Mary as a symbol of the feminine in Western culture. She argues that Mary represents a kind of split between the body and the spirit, and that this split has led to a profound sense of disconnection from the body and from the earth. Woodman suggests that the repression of the feminine has created a deep wound in the collective psyche, and that this wound must be healed if we are to find wholeness and integration. She believes that the suppression of the feminine has led to a profound sense of disconnection from the body, from the earth, and from our own souls.

Another key aspect of Woodman’s work on feminine psychology is her focus on the body and the ways in which it holds wisdom and healing. She believed that the body is a source of intuitive knowledge, and that by listening to the signals of the body, we can gain access to our deepest truths. In her book “Dancing in the Flames,” Woodman writes about the importance of embodiment and the ways in which movement and dance can help us to connect with the body and access its wisdom.

Woodman’s work on feminine psychology has also had a profound impact on the field of addiction treatment. In her book “The Ravaged Bridegroom,” she explores the connection between addiction and the suppression of the feminine. She argues that addiction is a form of self-destructive behavior that is rooted in a disconnection from the body and from the feminine. For Woodman, addiction is a symptom of a deeper wound in the psyche, a wound that is created by the suppression of the feminine, and that to heal addiction, we must learn to reconnect with the body and with the feminine.

Throughout her career, Woodman was also a passionate advocate for women’s rights and a pioneer in the field of feminine spirituality. She believed that by reclaiming the feminine, both men and women could find greater wholeness and healing, and she worked tirelessly to promote this message throughout her life. Her insights into the ways in which the feminine has been repressed and suppressed in Western culture have helped to open up new avenues for healing and transformation, and her message of wholeness and integration remains as relevant today as it was during her lifetime.

Inner Beso Dream

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Journal Date: February 2, 2021

At the end of the collection of short stories in Warming the Stone Child, Clarissa Pinkola Estés offers a couple tips for continuing the healing journey on your own.

The first one is this: “Pay attention to your dreams. Your dreams will tell you everything. In terms of injured instinct, dreams that are about animals that are injured or not acting properly are very good clues to what is hurt or what is injured in the deep unconscious.”

It’s funny, because just days before I heard this in this book, I had a very intense dream which fits what Estés is describing here perfectly.

From what I can remember, I had been struggling inside of this dream for a while before the parts that I became more directly conscious of occurred.

I remember that in this dream, I had been at a party for quite some time, feeling more and more frustrated as it went on.

Both my best friend and my ex-boyfriend were there. In this dream, we were still dating, but I could tell that he was losing interest, and not wanting to be with me.

Then my best friend showed up, and somehow it became known that she intended to sleep with him.

I tried to convince her not to do that, but apparently I didn’t do a very good job, because that’s exactly what happened next.

And in the dream, I just could not get over it.

I held on to that so tightly, with so much resentment and bitterness. I just couldn’t let it go. I told everyone I met. It was the only thing I wanted to talk about in my dream, really.

It just went on and on like that, endlessly, without reprieve.

It was like I had to convince anybody who would come near me how wrong it was. How it was something which could never be forgiven, which I had to hold onto forever.

This went on for a frustratingly long amount of time.

Until suddenly, I found that I was no longer at the party, but back on the streets of Whittier, making my way back towards my childhood home on Friends Ave.

And I had a little baby Beso in a wrinkled up, used and old plastic bag inside of my black backpack, just like the one I had in middle school.

Baby Beso was very sick.

I had fed him something toxic without knowing it was poisonous to him.

And so now I was trying to make my way back to this house, thinking that it was here that I would be able to take Beso out of the old bag in the backpack. 

I knew that he was suffering in there, it was dark and poorly ventilated, and I could only rarely look inside to check on him and see if he was even still alive.

And on top of this, I kept getting distracted, caught up again and again in telling everyone I encountered what a victim I was, and how I would never forgive them for what they had done to me.

This went on until I found myself on a street near Uptown Whittier, one which was on the other side of the alley where I had often walked through on my way to another friend’s house.

I took one last look inside of my backpack to check on baby Beso–and he was not doing well.

His eyes were red, deeply irritated all around the edges, and it was clear that he was suffering, struggling and very much in pain.

I was worried that he may not make it all the way to my mother’s house.

But I was convinced, for some reason, that there was nothing I could do until I reached this place, so I put him in my backpack again, and kept on walking.

And then I woke up.

I thought about that dream quite a bit that day. Clearly, there seemed to be a significant connection between what went on in my dream and in my world.

I remembered how my therapist has started calling the part of me that still needs mothering, the child within that requires loving attention and care, my “Inner Beso.”

I think it’s because I talk about my dog all the time, and how much I love being his “mom,” and how much I’ve learned from caring for him. I think he keeps saying that to encourage me to do the same for myself, to transfer my Beso-mothering skills into inner child, self-mothering skills.

What I got from analyzing my dream was this:

Maybe the bitterness and resentment I’ve been feeling towards my family aren’t serving a purpose anymore.

Maybe they are poisonous, maybe they are the toxic food that I have unknowingly been feeding my “inner Beso.”

And maybe I’m just going in the wrong direction entirely.

Why go revisit that old place in Whittier? 

Why go “home”?

There was nothing nourishing in that place to begin with. To keep returning there no longer makes any sense to me.

Maybe it’s just a distraction, a dangerous lie putting my inner child at further risk of being harmed.

Maybe the thing to do is attend to my “inner Beso” now, right where I’m at, as imperfect as that may be.

And please, take him out of that dirty old bag in your backpack immediately!

There is no reason to hide him away anymore.

All of this is to say, I need to turn and start heading in the other direction now.

This return to the childhood home, the return to the past, has served its purpose and outlived its usefulness. 

I’ve learned what I came to learn. Now is the time to move beyond it.

And I don’t need to wait to start caring for myself. I can start feeding my “inner Beso” healthy, nourishing food. 

I can give myself experiences that fill me up and nourish my soul.

I don’t have to wait anymore.

Book Review | Complex PTSD by Pete Walker

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Complex PTSD, written by Pete Walker, is a book that is aimed at providing a deeper understanding of trauma and its effects on the psyche. This book goes into detail on the topic of Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, a subtype of PTSD that arises from prolonged exposure to traumatic experiences. In this book review, we will analyze how the author’s use of case studies helps readers understand the complexities of trauma and the strategies that can be used to overcome its lasting effects. Additionally, we will explore how the book emphasizes the potential for healing and provides tools for managing emotional flashbacks.

Part I: Understanding Complex PTSD

The first part of the book provides an overview of complex PTSD and its symptoms. The author discusses how trauma can affect a person’s mental health and emotional wellbeing, leading to anxiety, depression, and a range of physical symptoms. In this section, the author highlights the symptoms of complex PTSD, which are different from those of regular PTSD.

For example, emotional flashbacks are a hallmark symptom of complex PTSD, and they can be triggered by seemingly innocuous events. The author shares a case study of a client who experienced intense feelings of fear and anxiety whenever she saw a man with a beard. This was because her abuser had a beard, and the sight of a bearded man triggered an emotional flashback. By sharing this case study, the author helps readers understand the complexities of emotional flashbacks and how they can be triggered by seemingly minor events.

Part II: The Roots of Complex PTSD

In the second part of the book, the author delves into the roots of complex PTSD and how it develops. The author explains that complex PTSD often arises from prolonged exposure to trauma, particularly in childhood. The author highlights the various forms of childhood trauma that can lead to complex PTSD, such as physical and sexual abuse, neglect, and emotional abuse.

The author shares a case study of a woman who experienced emotional abuse as a child. The woman’s mother was constantly critical of her, telling her she was worthless and would never amount to anything. As a result, the woman developed a deep sense of shame and self-loathing that persisted into adulthood. By sharing this case study, the author helps readers understand how childhood trauma can have lasting effects on a person’s mental health and emotional wellbeing.

Part III: Healing from Complex PTSD

The third part of the book focuses on healing from complex PTSD. The author emphasizes the potential for healing and provides a range of strategies and techniques for overcoming the lasting effects of trauma. 

The author provides an in-depth discussion of emotional flashbacks and how they can be managed. The author emphasizes that emotional flashbacks are not memories of past events, but rather intense emotional states that are triggered by present-day situations that resemble past traumas. The author provides tools for managing emotional flashbacks, such as grounding techniques, self-compassion, and mindfulness.

The author shares a case study of a client who experienced intense feelings of shame and self-blame whenever she made a mistake. These feelings were triggered by past experiences of being punished for making mistakes. The client learned to recognize when she was experiencing an emotional flashback and used grounding techniques to bring herself back to the present moment. In sharing this case study, the author helps readers understand how emotional flashbacks can be managed and overcome.

One of the most important tools for managing emotional flashbacks is the “flashback management toolbox.” This toolbox includes a variety of techniques that can help trauma survivors recognize and manage their emotional flashbacks, including:

  • Grounding techniques: These techniques involve using the five senses to anchor oneself in the present moment. For example, a person might focus on the sensation of their feet on the ground, the sound of their breathing, or the feeling of a cool breeze on their skin.
  • Self-compassion: When experiencing emotional flashbacks, trauma survivors can be extremely hard on themselves, blaming themselves for their feelings or believing that they are weak. Self-compassion involves treating oneself with kindness and understanding, recognizing that emotional flashbacks are a normal and understandable response to trauma.
  • Mindfulness: Mindfulness techniques involve cultivating awareness of one’s thoughts, feelings, and physical sensations without judgment. By practicing mindfulness, trauma survivors can learn to observe their emotional flashbacks without getting lost in them.
  • Inner child work: Inner child work involves connecting with the wounded child within oneself and providing that child with the love, support, and nurturing that they may have missed out on in childhood. By connecting with the inner child, trauma survivors can begin to heal the wounds of the past and build a stronger sense of self.

I especially recommend reviewing Walker’s 13 Steps for Managing Flashbacks, which have personally been an invaluable resource when it comes to recognizing and managing my own triggers and flashbacks.

In conclusion, Complex PTSD by Pete Walker is a remarkable book that provides a deep understanding of the impact of trauma on individuals, particularly in the form of complex post-traumatic stress disorder. The author’s compassionate and insightful approach to complex PTSD offers practical tools and resources to help people overcome the effects of trauma and live a more fulfilling life.

One of the book’s essential messages is that healing from trauma is possible. By understanding the origins of complex PTSD and using the right tools and support, we can learn to manage their symptoms effectively and reclaim our lives. The author’s emphasis on self-care, self-compassion, and mindfulness in the healing process is particularly powerful, as it highlights the importance of treating oneself with kindness and compassion, which can be challenging for trauma survivors.

Overall, Complex PTSD is a must-read for anyone who has experienced trauma or works with trauma survivors. The book provides hope and practical strategies for individuals struggling with the effects of trauma, emphasizing that healing is possible and within reach. The author’s message of resilience and potential for personal healing is truly inspiring and can serve as a beacon of hope for anyone who has suffered the effects of trauma. 

Reading this book has been one of the most important factors in my own personal healing journey of recovery from Complex PTSD. I recommend it to anyone who faces similar challenges. It is my hope that it will help many others the way it has helped me.

Disorganized Attachment

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Attachment theory proposes that the quality of the relationship between a child and their primary caregiver sets the foundation for the individual’s future social and emotional development. A secure attachment style, characterized by a sense of safety, trust, and confidence in relationships, is linked to positive outcomes, such as higher levels of self-esteem, better coping skills, and healthier relationships.

However, when caregivers are inconsistent, unpredictable, or emotionally unavailable, a child may develop an insecure attachment style, leading to difficulties in adulthood. One of the most difficult of these insecure attachment styles is the disorganized attachment style, which can have severe consequences for adult behavior in relationships.

Disorganized attachment develops when a child experiences both the desire for closeness and the fear of the caregiver simultaneously. In other words, the caregiver becomes a source of both comfort and fear, leading to confusion and disorientation in the child. The child may express this conflict by displaying contradictory behaviors, such as seeking proximity to the caregiver while at the same time avoiding or pushing them away. Disorganized attachment arises from trauma, neglect, or abuse, and is often associated with the parent’s own unresolved emotional issues or trauma.

In adulthood, disorganized attachment may manifest in various ways that can negatively affect the quality of intimate relationships. Adults with disorganized attachment may have difficulty regulating their emotions, leading to impulsive behavior, poor impulse control, and mood swings. They may also struggle to communicate their emotions and needs effectively, leading to misunderstandings and conflict in their relationships. Moreover, people with a disorganized attachment style may have a negative view of themselves and struggle with low self-esteem, leading to feelings of insecurity and fear of rejection in relationships.

People with disorganized attachment may also struggle with intimacy and trust. They may have a hard time forming close relationships and may be suspicious or fearful of others’ motives. They may also struggle with vulnerability, as they may associate it with danger or rejection. This can lead to avoidance of intimacy or engaging in self-sabotaging behaviors that push away potential partners.

In addition, disorganized attachment is associated with a higher risk of mental health issues such as depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). These mental health issues can further interfere with the individual’s ability to form and maintain healthy relationships. Moreover, people with disorganized attachment may have a higher risk of substance abuse, eating disorders, and other addictive behaviors as a way to cope with their emotional distress.

Entering the Hermes Field

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Journal Date: Saturday, January 2, 2021

I remember early on into the first month or so of quarantine– I was reading a book on alchemy, and it was describing the process of “entering the Hermes field,” and how to use this in your own spiritual development and awakening.

In the book, the author creatively describes a meeting with Hermes, and suggests that you can also directly communicate with him, and ask for guidance.

So I decided to try it.

“Hermes, I’m ready– show me my shadow. I’m ready to see the truth.”

I was answered almost immediately, that same night.

It was a lot– it felt very intense. So much so that I had to modify my request a little bit: “I’m ready, but please just show me what I can handle right now. Not more, and not less, just exactly what I am capable of handling at any given moment.”

Honestly, I was scared.

I was coming up against things I’d been running from for a lifetime.

And it hurt. It was painful to see what was there to be seen.

—

Painful, but not exactly surprising.

I already knew I was pretty messed up.

The surprise came just a few months into it, though, when the things I was seeing shifted from how I was wrong, and started to reveal to me how others needed to be held accountable.

This was where it started to get really difficult. 

I was used to being the one to blame. My inner critic was so easy to activate, it was already so natural for me to punish myself.

But what do I do when I have to hold other people accountable?

That was beyond terrifying to me.

How could I begin to come to terms with the vast amount of mistreatment from all those people I felt so powerless with?

This was the hardest thing: to come to terms with my family and how they had treated me.

I’d never really allowed myself to consider this.

I’d rather throw myself under the bus, and punish myself, than face the truth of what my family was.

I resisted.

But it soon became undeniable.

There was something deeply wrong with the narrative I’d been sold about who I was, and why they acted as they did toward me.

The narrative was coming undone, even though I’d done my best for 32 years to hold the bundles of lies and patchwork logic together.

I’d changed myself to fit their demands.

I’d sinned just to earn a place in their hell.

And it was all starting to unravel itself before my eyes.

There was nothing I could do to stop it now.

I could look away, but the thread had been pulled loose, and was now coming undone through a life of its own.

This Train is Leaving the Station

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Journal Date: May 5, 2020

I woke up early this morning to take my little puppy Beso outside before the sun rose.

Coming back inside, I gave him a snack and lay down to rest more on the living room couch while he played with his toys.

Soon, I found myself in the middle of a terrible dream.

In this dream, I was being rejected, shamed and abandoned by everyone in my life. I felt wildly out of control, unable to control my body or my reactions to anything around me. I was sure that I had been drugged, I had a vague memory of taking a pill I had been offered earlier in the dream by my mother.

I tried to tell the others in my dream it wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t control my self, it was this drug I had taken that was making me act intoxicated, that the way they saw me wasn’t reflective of who I really was, but no one believed me, and left me alone with my shame anyway.

Soon I came to realize I was on a train, which continually traveled between two stations, an old station and a more modern one in a new town. Sometimes I would get off the train and explore the land surrounding each station, but inevitably I would find myself back on the train as it continued its ceaseless journey from one point to the other.

On one trip back to the old town station, I saw a hospital emergency room. I wanted to rush off the train and see if they could give me a drug test or something to prove the cause of my condition. But I could never stay off the train long enough, I always came back sooner than I would have wished to commence a new cycle of pain and confusion.

Once back on the train, I re-experienced each abandonment anew. Most times, it was one of my parents which were leaving me after delivering their cold, unequivocal judgements on how I was not worth the trouble to be around. But there were times when even my puppy Beso was taken away from me. It may not seem like much, but each time it happened, I felt my heart implode like a massive black hole in my chest, and I heard myself scream out loud.

This lasted until I was woken up on the couch by my mom. “Are you okay?” she asked. She had heard me scream again and again in my sleep, and was afraid something was wrong.

I finally got up and she brought me water and some aspirin to help with the headache I had woken up with.

“Look at Beso,” she said, pointing to my dog laying under the couch beneath me. “Even though you were making so much noise he never left you. He’s so loyal.”

I avoided thinking about the dream until later in the afternoon. I had fallen asleep again for a nap, and on waking up, the meaning of the earlier dream came to me all at once.

The drug I had been given was my trauma, my childhood experience and conditioning which told me I was and would never be good enough.

Being high (or in this case, low) on this drug had me acting in ways I felt I couldn’t control. I was reactive, reckless, hurting myself and others, watching this bitter pill create the wreckage of my life I knew, feared, and experienced over and over again.

There was still that part of me that wanted to get off at the old train station, to go back further into my past, to find some authority that would look at me and give me a diagnosis that would shift the blame onto anything outside of me. I wanted someone to say to me, “It’s the drugs talking. It’s this tough pill of trauma you’ve been hooked on for so long. We understand it’s not your fault.”

But no doctor could ever give me that script. Even if they did, few would believe me and even less would care.

I could feel all of the shame and fear and sense of “stuckness” rising up within me as I reflected on the dream and what it could mean for me.

Then I remembered, the train always kept moving. The train was always taking me forward, trying to open its doors for me onto new frontiers, but I had such a hard time feeling ready to make roots in this foreign territory, I was obsessed with proving something about who I was and who should be held responsible for all the consequences that came of that that I found myself again and again on that same train “home”.

Now I could see that when those doors opened again, I needed to plant my flag in that new space and declare the future my true home.

The past is a desolate place, a withered landscape, a war-torn country I could never trust as my own. In some ways I think that maybe I never had a home, I felt as if I’d been born at sea, a small ship at sail in dangerous waters. 

I know I can’t go back to where I was, but now I’m prepared to get off this train and build my own home, create my own safe harbor from a pattern I am putting together as I go along. I’m ready to go home, to the future, and leave that train of sadness behind for good.