Koń i Jeździec (Horse and Rider)

I owe thanks to Aleksandra Piatek for translating the story “Horse and Rider”.

Obserwowałam jeźdźca trenującego konia. Kobieta była niska i delikatna. Wałach, na którym jeździła, był pełen energii. W każdej chwili mógłby ją zrzucić, ale nie o to tu chodziło. Dwie dusze zmagały się ze sobą. „Kto prowadzi?” – to pytanie unosiło się w powietrzu. Kobieta nie spieszyła się z koniem. Chciała go ujarzmić, ale nie złamać jego ducha. Pragnęła jego szacunku i zaufania. Ostatecznie wygrała ten pojedynek i wierzę, że oboje byli szczęśliwi.

(From: Stefan Hammel: The Blade of Grass in the Desert, impress 2012)

The book is available in my Onlineshop.

Kind regards, Stefan

Margaret i Lucy (Margaret and Lucy)

The story “Margaret and Lucy” has been translated to Polish by Aleksandra Piatek (pronounced “Piontek”). Thank you Aleksandra!

Kiedyś w małej szczelinie między kamieniami muru mieszkały dwie jaszczurki. Nazywały się Margaret i Lucy. Lucy leżała na murze cały dzień, wygrzewając się na słońcu. Margaret większość czasu spędzała, polując na owady dla siebie i swoich dzieci. Czuła irytację, gdy widziała Lucy na murze.

„Jak możesz tak marnować czas! Gdybyś była porządną jaszczurką, zajmowałabyś się swoimi dziećmi. Co ty tam robisz cały dzień?” – zapytała. Oczy Lucy zalśniły, a ona odpowiedziała: „Zbieram energię. Widzisz, robię coś dla moich dzieci”.

„Widzę to inaczej” – burknęła Margaret. „I poza tym, nie zdziwię się, jeśli pewnego dnia jakiś myszołów albo jastrząb porwie cię z tego muru”. „Zobaczymy” – odparła Lucy, wyciągając się na słońcu.

Margaret wolała spędzać czas, ścigając mrówki. W ostatnich dniach wyglądała na wyczerpaną. Czasami jej życie było zagrożone: brakowało jej zwinności potrzebnej, aby uciec przed łasicą czy kotem.

Dzieci Lucy jednak stały się silne i szybkie, jak ich matka. Wkrótce łapały największe pająki, najszybsze biegnące żuki, a nawet ogromne ważki. Ich ulubionym zajęciem było jednak leżenie na murze i wyciąganie się w słońcu.

(From: Stefan Hammel: The Blade of Grass in the Desert, impress 2012)

The book is available in my Onlineshop.

Kind regards, Stefan

The Worry Catapult

One of the games we used to play at school was to stretch a rubber band between two fingers of one hand and then shoot folded bits of paper at the other pupils, or even at the teacher when his back was turned at the blackboard. It was against the school rules, of course, but it was still great fun and a good way of keeping boredom at bay. A sawn-off forked branch and a rubber ring from a preserving jar could be used in a similar way to make a stone catapult, and even now I still often think of these different kinds of catapults.

Sometimes wrinkles appear on my face because I am afraid, annoyed, sympathetic or troubled. I know that if they become a fixed part of my repertoire of facial expressions, in a few years’ time these expressions will turn into basic facial characteristics which determine my neutral appearance regardless of my mood – wrinkles and all. This is not what I want, and it is also not what I need.

My face muscles are like a worry catapult which is stretched between my ears. Whenever my skin tenses up in one spot and forms wrinkles in another, and whenever a particular level of tension has been exceeded, the catapult goes “pop” and the muscles relax. All the worries, all the annoyance, all the anger – catapulted away into time and space. Sometimes they are fired into nothingness, and sometimes they are sent to someone who – unlike me – will give them a good home. The only thing left on my face is a smile, as I know that the worry wrinkles have not made a home for themselves this time.

https://pixabay.com/de/photos/smiley-emoticon-der-zorn-ver%c3%a4rgert-2979107/ (28.3.2023)

“The Worry Catapult” is an intervention which can be used at a somatic level to avoid or reduce stress-related facial wrinkles, at an emotional level for relaxation and at a social level to practice new behavioural patterns for dealing with interpersonal stress. The procedure is similar to the “clenched fist” technique, a “method which can be used by a child to ‘throw away’ tension and problems by clenching [and then relaxing] his or her fist.” (Olness & Kohen, 2001.)

(From: Stefan Hammel: Handbook of Therapeutic Storytelling. Sories and Metaphors in Psychotherapy, Child and Family Therapy, Medical Treatment, Coaching and Supervision, Routledge 2019)

The Blade of Grass in the Crack

The story “The Blade of Grass in the Crack” can be told in many situations described by patients as hopeless. It illustrates a fundamental principle of systemic therapy, namely that it is important to identify anything which may be useful, no matter how innocuous, and multiply it until it becomes a force which can hold its own against the stresses which at first appeared unassailable. The story can help clients who have resigned themselves to a situation – and their therapists – to adopt a searching attitude and identify solutions which previously appeared impossible.

The prisoner said, “Last night I dreamt that a blade of grass grew in a crack in our dungeon, just where the shaft of light which comes through the spy hole in the door hits our wall. It was watered by the moisture which drips from the dungeon roof and the walls. The roots grew stronger and forced the crack open a tiny amount, and a second blade of grass grew from these roots, right next to the first. Then we hung a belt on the door so that its silver buckle reflected a little light onto the second blade. This grew as well, and its powerful roots widened the crack a little more. We repeated this process again and again until the stone was surrounded by grass on all sides. When a year had passed, we pulled out the weeds, and the light shone through the cracks. We braced ourselves against the stone and pushed it outwards with all of our strength, inch by inch over the course of a day. Then we climbed out through the hole and were free.” “It’s a shame there’s no blades of grass growing in our dungeon,” sighed his fellow prisoner. The prisoner who had just related his dream stared at the wall for a long time. Then he asked, “And what do you think that is?”

Healing Fairy Tales

Pixabay

Do you know about healing fairy tales?

My colleague Allison Quaid designed a beautiful website which can show you how to develop your own fairy tale as a story that can help you or others with traumatic experiences. On this site you will also find examples of such tales which you may find useful to read or tell to yourself and others. Curious?

Find out about the power of healing fairytales on

www.healingfairytales.com!

The Replanted Tree

The story “The Replanted Tree” is designed in particular for children finding
it hard to come to terms with a new living situation after a house move
or adoption, or after their parents have divorced and the family has been
restructured. Once again, it is a good idea to refer to a minor injury in the
story in order to incorporate the problem which the listener is facing and its
predicted improvement without lending too much gravity to the story (and by
analogy to the way in which the patient handles the associated situation in his
or her life). The story can also be used for patients who are forced – for agerelated
or health- related reasons – to move out of their own house in order to
go and live with family or in a home, or adults with disabilities who are forced
to move away from their families and into sheltered accommodation.

One day a gardener was working in his garden when he found a small tree
right in the middle of some shady undergrowth. “A shadbush!” he cried.
“How on earth did that get here?” He would never have suspected that
such a beautiful and valuable tree could be found in such a dark location.
Perhaps the wind or a bird had carried its seeds there?
The gardener thought carefully about what he should do next. He
knew that it is sometimes diffi cult to move a plant to a different location,
but he also knew that his shadbush would never grow into a large, strong
and beautiful tree if it stayed here in the shade. So he decided to replant it
in a different location, where it would get enough sun and wind to thrive
and fl ourish. He took his spade and dug out a broad ring of soil around
the trunk of the tree before digging a hole in the ground where he wanted
the tree to grow and placing the shadbush there, root ball and all. He then
fi lled the hole back up with soil, added exactly the right amount of fertiliser,
and gave the plant a good watering.
When he looked at his tree the next day, he was dismayed to see that all
the leaves on it were drooping. He thought to himself that the tree’s roots
had probably extended a long way under the ground before it had been
dug up, and that it must have lost some of its tiniest hair- like roots. The
tree would need to conserve its energy to heal these injuries, but it should
be able to regrow its roots, and so the gardener decided to give his tree the
best possible care and simply be patient. He waited and gave the tree all
the time it needed, and soon the leaves had indeed regained their former
strength. After a few months the tree was a fi ne specimen, and after a few
years it had grown into a large and strong tree.

Terminé!

« Terminé! » , cria l’œuf quand il fut pondu. « Maintenant terminé! » , cria le tétard quand il fut sortie de l’œuf. « Maintenant je suis au complet! », cria la créature quand elle eut deux pattes. « Je suis enfin au complet de la tête aux pieds! » , cria l’être, quand il eut quatre pattes et une longue queue. « Qui sait ce qui va désormais encore se produire… » , dit la grenouille quand elle fut terminée.

Le loup de mer et le loup de terre

Un jour, le loup de mer reҫu la visite du loup de terre. Les deux se connaissaient déjà depuis l’école des loups. Le loup de mer avait parcouru le monde et vécut beaucoup d’aventures et il rentra chez lui riche de trésors et d’expériences. Le loup de terre était resté chez soi dans sa tannière. Il rencontra une louve de terre et eut des louveteaux de terre. Et maintenant, il a beaucoup de petits-louveteaux et des arrière-petits-louveteaux, et tous sont devenus de vrais, bons loups de terre.

«Parfois j’aimerais refaire ma vie», dit le loup de terre au loup de mer. «C’est la même chose pour moi», dit ce dernier. «Je ferais beaucoup de choses différemment», dit le loup de terre. «Oui, moi aussi», répondit le loup de mer. «Je naviguerais les océans», rêva le loup de terre. «Je me marierais», soupira le loup de mer. «Je vivrais des aventures», expliqua le loup de terre. «J’aurais des louveteaux», dit le loup de mer. «Je serais un loup de mer riche. J’aurais vécu des expériences  périlleuses et magnifiques, dont je pourrais raconter les histoires», dit le loup de terre avec enthousiasme. «Moi, j’aurais des petits-enfants et des arrière-petits-enfants qui m’aimeraient et qui s’occuperaient de moi quand je serais vieux et malade», assura le loup de mer.

«Et ce serait moi qui serait maintenant assis avec toi dans cette tannière de loup de mer», continua le loup de terre, « …et moi avec toi… », rajouta le loup de mer. Le loup de terre hocha la tête : «Et puis maintenant tu me dirais : “Parfois, j’aimerais bien refaire ma vie” et moi, je répondrais : “Oui, c’est la même chose pour moi.”»

At Dying Beds

At dying beds I’ve experienced a lot of silence – which felt at times good, at times disturbing. Dying people will be almost always be in coma in their last hours (and, mostly, days). What hinders us from speaking with the dying?

  • As family members, we may be in a shock state, frozen or confused.
  • We may be insecure if they hear and understand us.
  • We may be insecure what is relevant and helpful for them.
  • We may feel insecure what the staff thinks of us if we behave unconventional.
But surely, if we find out what hinders us from speaking and acting, this can free us and widen the range of our possibilities, to the benefit of both ourselves and the patient.

Sometimes it’s extremely difficult to notice and interpret any nonverbal reactions of coma patients. In other cases we need to sharpen our senses. With no other body reactions left, often there are still reactions on our words, or on caressing, in the patients’ changing his of breath style and rhythm (unless on a breathing machine).
If we do find tiny nonverbal reactions or changes of the way of breathing, the questions are:

  • Does the patient show this behavior repeatedly (every time) when we bring up a certain topic or do something particular (or when a certain person is arriving or leaving or being mentioned)?
  • Do we rather see the reaction as one of stress or relief?

I would like to summarize a few things that I have learned from the Encounters I had with dying people.
1. Treat dying people as living people.                                                                              2. At a dying bed, get aware of what hinders you from acting and speaking free. Free yourself to get flexible.
3. Observe which tiny reactions (movements, mimics, breath) the dying person shows repeatedly on certain key words, persons, behavior. Are they reacions of stress, relief or interest? Which are the triggers?
4. Dying patients may be in coma, but they’re usually not deaf. Choose your words well. No catastrophic medical descriptions or burial talk.
5. Create rapport. Introduce yourself and tell your aim shortly. Use body contact, use your voice and breath pacing.
6. See a coma patient as someone who is already in trance. Create rapport. Interventions can start right away, without induction
7. The subconscious responds strongly to imagery. Speak in a dream language. Use metaphors, avoid abstract words.
8. Breath pacing and leading can regulate pain or breath problems (and can regulate breath down till it almost stops).
9. Breath, blood pressure and heart rate can also be regulated by metaphors (f. e. of a flying eagle, a pulsating jellyfish or a manta ray).
10. Speak about emotional content rather than about facts.
11. Express in metaphors or more directly that it is possible and good to let go – of live, of psychological problems of body problems.
12. Use metaphoric terms to speak about the good future.
13. Introduce thoughts like “You can love them from the other side”, “things will change, relations go on”.
14. Use negative terms only with a good reason. Except for pacing strong pain, don’t mention “pain” but “body sensations”. Teach this to the relatives.
15. People will rather die when they’re ready to go. What may help: Rituals, a bye-bye from family members, messages of “letting go”.

The Good Shepherd

I would like to say something about breath pacing, and about texts that we can recite to a dying Person.
I knew Mrs. Seiberth, and we had liked each other. I knew that she was a religious woman and that she wished that her son would come and see her. Asked why he doesn’t come she said: “He’s living far away. – But also, he is afraid of seeing me so sick.” When I was visiting her now she was in coma. She looked into an empty space. With every breath she made a coughing sound. I put my hands on her arm. Calm and slowly, with long pauses in the pace of her breath I recited the psalm of the good shepherd. Her breath went calmer and the coughing noise went silent. But at the words “thy rod and staff they comfort me” the coughing came back. Maybe they reminded her of something that made her sad? The concept of systematic desensitation of fears came to my mind. So I repeated these very words so often in a very calm and friendly tone till the coughing disappeared again. Then I continued. At the words “in the presence of my enemies” the coughing came back. I did the same procedure of repeating the words in a friendly tone till the coughing was gone and she was breathing calmly. At the words “Goodness and mercy will follow me all my life” her breath got even calmer. So I repeated these words many times till it got even calmer. I finished the Psalm and said “I would like to say bye-bye now.” Immediately the coughing noise came back and continued with every breath. “I will come back, I will come back, I will come back…” I said, and the noise disappeared. The next day I visited her I read the same psalm to her. Her breath was calm and silent all the time. Only when I said that now I would leave the coughing noise came back. “I come again, I come again, I come again…” I said till it was calm again. The next day I was about ninety minutes later than on the previous days. Entering her room I saw a man who introduced himself as her son. “She’s died an hour ago.” He said. „Was she still alive when you came?“ „Yes“, he said. (Stefan Hammel, Handbook of Therapeutic Storytelling, Karnac, London 2017/18)