TACKLING THE STORY-MIND

Article published in "Reports from the field" in 1996

by Meindert Gijzen

      One of the exercises in "Dynamics of space and time" that is a bit different from most other TSK-exercises, because it seems almost like a psychological or therapeutic exercise is exercise 11, "Telling Stories". The point that this exercise is driving at is that we are telling ourselves stories almost all the time, whether we want it, or are willing to acknowledge it, or not. The last sentence of this exercise says: "Can you touch the energy bound up in those stories? Can you release it?" Here we hit upon what I feel to be the most crucial and interesting aspect of it. In western psychology we refer to the subconscious: the way energies and emotions, drives and frustrations become frozen or "repressed". In a more experiential language we might say that the body communicates what our minds have lost contact with. Most of our addiction to stories serves the purpose, I believe, of disguising and veiling those sensations, feelings and sufferings that do not fit in with our self-image. Isn't it  disquieting that we usually consider this storytelling to be a very normal, even healthy state of mind, while most of the time we are cheating and draining ourselves of energy?

      A difficult point with this exercise seems to be that this story-mind has a tricky, cunning side to it. If I invite it to have its way, it will typically stay relatively quiet, whereas at moments that I would wish it to shut up, it chatters on and on. If one sits down with it (for instance, during a TSK-class), not so many stories may seem to surface and in not such an overwhelming manner, than usual. I wondered therefore how one might tackle this story mind in a non-agressive, subtle but effective manner. (By the way: A nice, clean and skillfully executed tackle during a football match - Americans call it soccer - is not only painless to its victim but also extremely effective.) It looks like this is more the kind of exercise that requires a persistent effort over a longer period of time, during daily life, to really get in touch with it and develop some overview of the most important themes that surface. As soon as certain stories have become explicit (written down or pronounced out loud) we can question them. Careful analysis will reveal that these stories aren't logical and satisfying at all. The cunning aspect of the story-mind resides in the fact that it is usually able to make up reasons and some sort of twisted logic for every premise that it cherishes. Here are some hints that, although they are not so spectacular and quite common sense, have helped me:

 Taking time for oneself alone.

One thing that has helped me greatly is going out on my own in nature. I have a number of favourite spots and routes where I know I can really be on my own. Being alone in nature for a longer period (say, at least a few hours) has a soothing and calming effect on the mind. I like to start out talking to myself out loud - hence my preference for lonely places. People usually think that one has to be crazy to talk to oneself, but I find it a very healthy way of bringing into daylight the emotions, worries and stories that have been lurking in the back of my head. After talking to myself for some time I find my mind becoming quiet, gradually moving towards more silence. This silence is creative. New  images, ideas, perhaps even solutions, pop up. It is as if the protective layer of stories opens up and real vulnerability, real feelings reveal themselves. These also can be expressed out loud.

 Keeping a diary.

Writing about my most private emotions, fears, doubts and struggles has helped me enormously. The point here is that there is a typical resistance to write about that which is most important. The really nasty, important themes often like to lurk in the twilight of the mind and do not want to come out into the light of day. This is because they make one feel uncomfortable. The story-mind has all kinds of excuses and reasons for this: "Why should I write, if I have no time to read it anyway? Why should I write if I can see straight away what is going on in my mind? Writing is too arduous - it takes too much time. What if somebody else finds this stuff and reads it?" etcetera. The act of writing is - in my experience - wholesome in itself because it forces one to bring into interaction thoughts and feelings that have lived an isolated life. Reading what you have written weeks, months or years ago, can be extremely clarifying: "Now I see what was the matter. Did I really think and feel that way? Yes I have changed!" The only thing I can say is: Do write!

      What about these other stories, that are truly creative, helpful, healing even? I'm thinking about great myths, legends and fairy-tales from all over the world. These stories seem to have the power to reveal and activate powers and capacities in their audience and seem to be a vehicle for knowledge of a higher level. The dynamic involved seems to be exactly opposite from that of our usual story-mind. Can our own story-mind grow and develop in a way that it approaches this level? I have a suspicion that the potential is there in all of us.