Category Archives: healing

SHOCK OF REALITY

Gloria Rising pgs. 36-38

AUTOMATIC LETTER 29
Sunday night
Dear Adam,

Gloria is having nightmares again. As of tonight it is impossible to
put some of my feelings into words. For one thing, I’m starting to really feel and at the same time I feel drained because I’ve opened a door that
has been stuck shut for years and I’m dumbstruck at what I see when it’s
opened.
For years – something buried so deep inside – never sure what it is –
more dangerous than any shadow or ghosts. Ghosts had shape and names –
this has none – whatever lived inside was so potent that sometimes it
seemed like a terrible bomb – glimpses caught in school or on the way
home. The safe world falls away and I know that the little girl walking saw
things that no little girl should see – blood – shattered glasses – all kinds of
horrible things – destruction – people crashing to their deaths – no burials
just vanishing, so many dead people. I feel nothing – numbness has become
part of me.

Later

Hi,
It’s important that Gloria does not create a wall at this time – this is
why I’m here again. There are other things you must know about the child
(we spoke of) but I can’t go into it now. About the child – he has not lost
his eyes or his legs but his will and his taste for life.
Again, I’m seeing a picture of the child at ten – the parents show pictures
of relatives – some are dead. The parents do not tell the child that
they’re angry – the child feels it – it’s in the air in everything said and done
– but at the age of ten, what does one do with that. The child gets angry
because they are all dead and he can’t do anything about it. Most important
to this child is the parents that even though they don’t say they’ve suffered,
he senses they are fragile. The parents appear to be very strong people but
the child has to be gentle with them always because it has to be. The child
has no right to get angry with them because they’ve suffered enough. Even
more the child has to always be happy in order to make up for everything
that happened
The child was taught that the most terrible thing (to do) or to be is
being selfish. To put yourself first to the child is that of being happy at ten years old.  So the child was taught that he didn’t deserve to be happy even
if he was expected to be.
Another picture about the child – everyone in the family is dying –
death doesn’t scare this child – death is like a soft blanket – like being held
in someone’s arm. When the parents talk of death, it’s always as a place
where everyone will hold a reunion.
Other things you’ll have to know – here. I’ll have to use caution a little
more. I’ll await any suggestions you may have.

Gloria’s Helper

NOTE:
Gloria’s Helper and I were walking a tightrope as if high above the
breathtaking and lethal Niagara Falls. A delicate balancing act to avoid
a disastrous slip that would send Gloria hurdling back into the abyss of
dissociation and amnesia. Gloria’s Helper understood we had to proceed
slowly to avoid Gloria panicking and regressing behind a wall of detached
numbness, where her progress would be dashed. It would be a terrible
setback that would close her off to us and cause her to resist our help. She
needed time to absorb the mounting shock of reality and time to rest to
gather emotional strength to face her childhood trauma.

Divine Love

Gloria Rising Pg. 35

AUTOMATIC LETTER 27

Sunday night

Dear Adam,

Gloria didn’t leave any paper except this orange paper so I’m using
this. Wish I could put myself in a trance as you put me. Still tonight in my
dreams I left my body and I was up in the stars – light but it wasn’t light. It
was brighter than light, but no glare, no hurting from it.
Out of it spelled “LOVE”, not the fake syllable but LOVE that IS!
Like no love I’ve ever imagined, “LOVE.” I saw, “THAT MATTERS!”
Words but they weren’t words or even ideas and the scene was beautiful,
filled with life, with a universe so powerful, a love so beautiful, it made me
want to cry with joy.
Then for the first time in a long time I fell into a deep sleep and
returned from nothingness. I could hear the cars going by from the windows
in the dark but nothing bright. I was like a life in limbo but a desolating
grief is now born in me and I mourn all those who have died – but it
will pass that I know. Time takes care of a lot of grief.
See you tomorrow.
Love

Gloria’s Helper

MANUSCRIPT POSTSCRIPT GLORIA RISING

Gloria Rising pp. xii-xiv

I struggled to keep my writing hand steady. It trembled as if detached from my body. I frantically scribbled down this note after finishing Gloria’s manuscript out of fear of a terrifying premonition that I would not awaken to see the dawn. This whole experience has been as if I had awoken from a nightmare, but it wasn’t my nightmare—it was real—too real to have imagined, let alone lived through and survived. I am Dr. Adam Jaxon, and if by chance you are reading this, I am already dead. I was a renowned and distinguished hypnotherapist and treated thousands of people in my lifetime, but Gloria B’s electrifying hypnotherapy captivated and stunned me. Unfortunately, I was reluctant to share her terrifying and heart-wrenching story for fear no one would believe the otherworldly powers that literally came to guide and help me heal her. I feared my old associates would think I had gone senile or worse mad. Now I feel ashamed for being such a coward, for allowing myself to be controlled by the homogenized expectations of my profession and being paralyzed by irrational fears that I would be scorned and rejected, if I spoke my mind. I now feel shame and guilt that my arrogance and fear got the best of me and nearly bankrupted my morals and destroyed me. After all Gloria and I had been through, I could not live with the thought that, in the end, I had betrayed her trust and let her down. But thanks to her endearing memory and loving spirit, I came to my senses while gazing at my image in a mirror. I flew into a rage and smashed the pathetic image with my wine glass into a million pieces; blood trickled down my wrist, but I didn’t care. I shouted, “To hell with my ego and reputation,” over and over again, until my voice grew too hoarse to scream anymore. I yielded to my guilty conscience to write her story that I had promised her. Besides, my health was failing, and Gloria’s story was too momentous and meaningful to be forgotten and buried in my cold grave. So, I feverishly wrote over the past year, and finally finished the manuscript this very night—just days before my 100th birthday. But alas, this morning, I sensed a chilling premonition that I would not be here to celebrate it. So, I left the precious manuscript, and this postscript, on my oak writing desk with a poignant note and scrupulous instructions for its publication, for my daughter to find. It would be my last fond gesture and chance to share my lifeworks with her, albeit, beyond the grave. I know if I died tonight, I would die a happy man at peace with myself knowing Gloria’s story would finally be told—a mysterious and astonishing story that defies the timeworn precepts of modern psychology and psychiatry—where insanity, genius, the metaphysical, and the mystery of life come together to beguile and confound our contemporary understanding of the mind and its limitless powers to heal.

Dr. Adam Jaxon

INSIDE GLORIA B’S PSYCHE

Pages xxi-xxv

Let me begin by being honest about my personal bias. I dislike, no abhor, psychiatric jargon and diagnoses, along with long-winded case histories presented in graduate schools or grand rounds of a mental hospital. They sound solicitous and scientific, and sometimes unintentionally the diagnoses and presentation take the human out of the human being. These diagnoses tend to bias the doctor’s perception and attitude, let alone the students’, towards the person discussed, reducing him or her to a commonplace pathology—no longer a living, breathing person but an ill patient requiring treatment.

Moreover, in Gloria’s case, she had received multiple and different diagnoses by trained mental health professionals who could not agree on her diagnosis. Gloria appeared like a living, walking “Rorschach” ink blot test that had confounded them as they tried, in vain, to project their well-meaning interpretations on her. However, the medical model of psychiatry, I know, has value and its place in treating the actual imbalances in brain chemistry; and such was the case with Gloria whose fleeting psychotic episodes were treated effectively with small doses of Zyprexa, while the core of her psychological suffering had yet to be exposed. If her treatment had ended there, she would have only been remembered as a case number or, worse, ended up a psychiatric casualty.

I being a card-carrying pragmatist chose an empirical hypnotic approach—sometimes flying by the seat of my pants—yet always utilizing what Gloria offered me, her traumatic experiences, intelligence, awareness, insights, and yes, her troubling symptoms to help heal her. My only theory was that her symptoms were the spearhead of an underlying corrective emotional experience struggling to surface which terrified Gloria, yet was the key to her recovery and healing. Here the art, skill, and understanding of the complexity of healing would take precedence over diagnoses, medicine, and scientific approaches to behavior change. A colleague chided me about my approach saying, “I had tossed caution to the wind.” But on thoughtful consideration, I could not help but chuckle at his outrageous warning.

By the time Gloria was referred to me, she had been diagnosed as suffering from a rogue’s gallery of major mental illnesses including Schizophrenia, Bipolar Disorder, Atypical Psychosis, and Paranoid Psychosis. It’s a wonder she hadn’t wound up lost on some back ward of a state hospital doing the Thorazine shuffle.

An old chum of mine just happened to be Gloria’s family physician and referred her to me saying Gloria had difficulty falling and staying asleep due to recurrent nightmares. She had reported what sounded like visual and auditory hallucinations about a girl upstairs who she thought was trying to scare and hurt her. He said she was exhibiting other strange behaviors, yelling at the upstairs neighbor and wandering around the neighborhood in the middle of the night, disoriented to her surroundings; and she had recently been found in a confused state collapsed on a pile of snow just outside her apartment. He said she was abusing her sleeping pills and, though a lovely lady, she was a handful and wished me good luck.

Prior to Gloria coming to see me, I had left her plethora of diagnoses and reports on my crafts table tucked inside my DSM-IV diagnostic manual that I used for pressing garden flowers. When Gloria came in to see me, I was struck by her small stature and thick auburn hair that hung lifelessly around her drawn moist face. She looked like she hadn’t slept or seen the light of day for some time. She looked haggard.

What held my attention was her large, prominent brown eyes that displayed fear and dread. She was emotionally tense and expressed strong ambivalence about seeking help. She spoke incessantly with pressured speech about her anger at her doctor for thinking she was crazy and, worse, she feared I would. She described feeling like a concentration camp survivor who no longer had any meaning or purpose in life and anyone left who needed her. She expressed deep discouragement and hopelessness about her life and felt she had lost her will to live. However, she denied suicidal thoughts.

Gloria was beside herself with fear and anger. She irately complained about a girl above her head, in the upstairs apartment, who made alarming noises: clicking, stomping, banging sounds that disturbed her sleep and terrified her. She further complained that she had visions of wild animals on her ceiling that frightened her in the night. She expressed her fear that she would go insane if she knew she was imagining the noises she heard.

Despite her damning diagnoses, her distraught presentation and apprehension that teetered on panic, I had an overwhelming hunch there was something more beneath her panicky condition. I was most concerned with her mounting nightmares and dangerous sleepwalking episodes. However, because of her desperate emotional turmoil and inability to reflect on her experience with me, I decided to hypnotize her. I felt hypnosis would facilitate rapport and trust, on a deeper level, and help establish a good personal relationship with her. Given her combative stance, which reflected her deep-seated fear that I would think her crazy, I felt her unconscious offered the best solution to our budding conflict and impasse. The absurdity of my own anxious reaction to Gloria’s rising panic would only strike me funny later.

I told Gloria I understood why she was upset and reminded her I was a hypnotherapist. I asked her if I could help her relax and that she would not experience or express anything she didn’t want to. I emphasized that I would protect her so that she wouldn’t experience too much distress or emotional discomfort at any one time. This simple suggestion seemed to calm her and she agreed. Her body’s response to trance was palpable as she slumped relaxed in the chair. She was a virtuoso hypnotic subject and perhaps this was the source “spontaneous trance” of her unexplained and bizarre symptoms and behavior.

Gloria was a deep hypnotic subject and I immediately accessed her unconscious that called itself the “Helper” that stated she wanted to help Gloria. She began to describe traumatic childhood experiences in disjointed sequences that Gloria had suffered. She said they were responsible for Gloria’s terror, strange visions, and erratic behavior. The Helper had access to knowledge and information beyond Gloria’s conscious awareness. She also was able to observe and reflect on Gloria’s inner experience and behavior with penetrating objectivity. She said that Gloria was giving her trouble because she was resisting and afraid of change, and that she was remembering the past too fast and becoming terrified and emotionally withdrawn. She emphasized Gloria saw no reason to live and wanted to die because she was afraid to love since she equated love with pain.

Here, in our first contact, Gloria’s Helper began to outline Gloria’s psychological crisis and some of the difficulties that would lie ahead, for both of us, to reach and help Gloria. Because Gloria’s nightmares were the focal point of her terror and emotional disturbance and her emerging awareness of her underlying trauma, I suggested to the Helper that when Gloria awoke from a nightmare that she put Gloria in a trance and write down what was terrifying her, rather than Gloria being trapped in a confused state of arousal that caused her to rave at her upstairs neighbor or sleepwalk. I wanted to thwart any further perilous behavior and events. The Helper was receptive to my post-hypnotic suggestion and felt she could carry it out. At the conclusion of this session Gloria awoke feeling more relaxed and without any sign of pressured speech, fear, anger or panic that she had presented with. A good outcome, I thought.

However, intuitively I felt Gloria’s therapy would be like a combat soldier, on hands and knees, deftly placing a knife in a mine field’s dirt, then gently probing to get through the maze of mines without getting blown to pieces. Likewise, I had to be vigilant not to plunge her further into madness or suicide.

In our following session Gloria arrived looking perplexed holding a sealed envelope addressed to me, stating that she had found the envelope in her home but did not know who wrote it or how it brought it to me because it was addressed to me. I reassured her that she had done the right thing and should bring any further letters to me. She accepted this suggestion without question.

This odd but critical development in our relationship Gloria seemed to intuitively trust. Thus began her hypnotic dream therapy and our quest. Over the strange course of her healing journey with me, she would bring me 202 sealed letters that I would read and then conduct her hypnotherapy. Amazingly, Gloria never read one of them or ever asked what was in them. She had put her entire trust in me—had put her life in my hands— from the first day we met.

Dr. Adam Jaxon

Dr. Adam Jaxon: A Port in Many Storms

AUTOMATIC LETTER 124, pg. 186

Wednesday night

Dear Port in Many Storms,

Sleep came quickly tonight. So did dreams – dreams twisted into nightmares.

When Gloria sleeps she’s like a frightened child – she’s either running from someone or is trapped by someone. In this dream she was an adult though – in one dream she was cold – too cold but there was no warmth, only fear, leaving her weak. She tried to scream but no sound came – she tried to run but her feet weighed as much as big rocks deeply rooted into the earth.

She had to try harder to move or she’d never get to you before the “Other” did.

She was broken and bleeding, screaming finally, reaching, and stumbling but she had to get to you. The “Other” was laughing and the sound was colder than frigid wind. He said, “You didn’t know about Gloria’s amnesia – the nightmares that lapped over into nights triggered by a word – did you know that she was afraid of going crazy?”

Even in the dream Gloria was sure if she could reach you first you’d be a lifeline capable of pulling her beyond the reach of whatever terror stalked her. She had survived the deaths of many, now she was trying to survive a different kind of death – a shattering loss of belief in herself, in her own strength, her own mind. Now she was trying to ask herself if it was worth it, any of it, if there was no end to fear and loss and deaths. Then she remembered how you had survived also and how strong you were – it showed in your movements, in your laughter, in the clean male lines of your face – she wasn’t terrified of you like with others and yet you were strong in mind and body – you moved with the easy strength that always fascinated Gloria yet your voice was gentle and your hands were – beautiful – an odd way to describe anything so strong and quick as a man’s hands yet that is the word – not all hands had affected Gloria like that – sometimes she saw hands and terror was in her. But I’m getting away from the dream here (you’re not often in our dreams). I was telling you how Gloria was trying to reach you first before the “Other” so he wouldn’t be able to convince you that she was losing her mind and imagining the real fear and the pain and terror of death he gave her – but no matter how she tried she couldn’t get to you and when she woke up she was so happy it was just a dream.

Gloria’s Helper

 

A Surprising Path to inner peace and acceptance of death.

SCIENCE OF PAIN
Could LSD Be the Right Prescription for the Terminally Ill?
Opiates are the drugs of choice in battling pain in the terminally ill, but opiates render such patients dull and unresponsive. Hallucinogens could well offer a better path.

The ’60s was the golden age of LSD research. The U.S. government subsidized at least 116 experiments (that we know of) over this interval to unlock its secrets. Dr. Stanislav Grof, one of the early experimenters, described LSD as a “non-specific amplifier of the unconscious,” for both good and bad. The suggestion was that LSD might be a primary modulator of the unconscious mind, and unlocking its mysteries would answer the questions of who we are, why we are here, and what’s to become of us. Big questions indeed. Maybe too big to be left to scientists?

As hard as you may try, you can’t keep something this big locked up in the lab. These molecules escaped from the ivory tower and started a (relatively) bloodless revolution within America, especially among young people, who were disillusioned with the U.S. government, and the handling of the Vietnam War and the civil rights movement. Psychedelics were all the rage in the late ’60s throughout the country. College campuses were the testing ground for this social experiment, and some still are.

Who on this earth is in greatest need of happiness, or at least the alleviation of the severest form of dysphoria or distress? Terminal cancer patients, that’s who. Standard hospice care provides such patients with opiates like hydromorphone (Dilaudid), which, while alleviating pain, dope them up to the point where they can’t and don’t care, and can’t even respond: they can’t tell their doctors that they are scared, or their loved ones that they love them. And of course these opiates are highly addictive. You could argue: Who cares about addiction if you’re already dying? Both of my parents died in hospice care, both doped up on opiates at the end. I couldn’t tell them I loved them, and they couldn’t communicate back. Prescribing opiates is more humane than letting patients suffer but nonetheless not an optimal way to depart this world. We all deserve a better exit than that, at peace with our own imminent mortality.

“Using LSD as the hallucinogen, Peter Gasser in Switzerland showed that 12 cancer patients also showed short- and long-term benefit.”

In a study that took a full decade to complete, and with the approval of the FDA, NIH, DEA, and a host of institutional review boards, Charles Grob at Harbor-UCLA Medical Center assessed the use of psilocybin (the compound in “magic mushrooms”) as a stand-alone treatment for the reactive anxiety and depression that attends death due to terminal cancer. In an initial study, 12 individuals with a life-threatening cancer diagnosis participated in a double-blind randomized crossover fashion (neither the subject nor the physician knew which treatment was being administered) with either psilocybin or niacin (Vitamin B3), which results in a tingling sensation and acted as the placebo control. Furthermore, every subject was prepared by a licensed psychologist beforehand to minimize the possibility of any side effects or a bad trip. Each had their own personalized metaphysical tour guide, who remained with them through the session. They optimized the set and the setting by providing a pleasing and comfortable environment. These clinical research studies were carefully performed and documented, and above reproach. The results were quite remarkable. Feelings of “oceanic boundlessness” and “visionary restructuralization” were followed by positive mood and reduction in depressive scores, which persisted up to six months after the psilocybin treatment ended.

Several follow-up studies are now being conducted. Stephen Ross at NYU School of Medicine randomized 29 participants with cancer in a double-blind fashion to receive either psilocybin or niacin. Again, reductions in long-term anxiety and depression were observed, and with long-lasting effects still measurable six months after hallucinogen exposure; and again the benefit correlated with the extent of the “mystical experience.” Using LSD as the hallucinogen, Peter Gasser in Switzerland showed that 12 cancer patients also showed short- and long-term benefit, and with no persistent side effects beyond the day of the study itself. Further studies have corroborated these beneficial effects up to 14 months out.

These studies provide yet another line of reasoning to support the assertion that our brains are being hacked—that our emotions are just the inward expression of biochemical processes in the brain. In the case of hallucinogens, signaling of the serotonin-1a receptor drives contentment, whereas signaling of the serotonin-2a receptor drives the mystical experience. In our modern society, the role of mind-altering drugs to achieve heightened consciousness and/or contentment has yet to be determined, and will require careful scientific investigation in controlled settings along with philosophical and ethical debate before the public can be trusted with the key to nirvana.

We are our biochemistry, whether we like it or not. And our biochemistry can be manipulated. Sometimes naturally and sometimes artificially. Sometimes by ourselves but sometimes by others. Sometimes for good and sometimes for ill.

Huachuma (San Pedro Cactus) — Healing The Spirit And Body

A reset.me interview with don Howard Lawler/Choque Chinchay Maestro Chacarun and Maestro Huachumero shaman of the ancient Chavin medicine plant healing of Spirit and Body.

http://reset.me/story/huachuma-san-pedro-cactus-healing-the-spirit-and-body/