I have been inspired lately reading
Bessel van der Kolk’s recently published book, The Body Keeps the Score. Highly readable, this specialist in
working with trauma describes his journey involving surprising discoveries and
research into the neurobiology of trauma and how to effectively work with Post
Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). One of the chapters most fascinating to me is
on how profoundly helpful yoga can be for those suffering from PTSD. I would
love to see similar research done with Continuum Movement.
I have been consistently impressed
by how valuable Continuum can be as part of one’s journey in healing trauma,
both in classes and, perhaps more surprisingly, in Skype sessions. In my
workshops and classes, I am touched by how participants begin to relate to
their experience differently once they’ve had a chance to deepen into the
practice of Continuum. For example, they might comment on how the old familiar
fear or pain came up but, instead of being overwhelmed by it, they were able to
acknowledge it was there, remember an important question in Continuum of ”What
else?” meaning “What else is possible here?” Being in the slow, fluid pace of
Continuum, with enhanced space around their experience, they were more in a
witness state, and were at choice about how to interact with their experience.
They could then remember and try some of the breaths and sounds of Continuum that
are particularly useful in shifting patterns and habits.
This freedom of choice is a key
aspect of healing our trauma. Whatever happened to us happened. We cannot
change that. We all have the history we have. It has influenced us and will
continue to be available to us as part of our perspective and understanding of
life. We do not however, need to be at the mercy of our history. Our trauma
doesn’t need to rule us. Once we begin to create space around it, our
relationship with it can begin to change.
This is where a mindfulness
approach is so helpful in working with trauma. Research shows how mindful
observation changes our neurobiology. Trauma often leaves us with an
over-active amygdala. This important part of the limbic brain acts like a sentry,
always on guard for any hints of the next attack or threat. When it detects
danger, it signals other parts of the nervous system to prepare, setting off a
stress response. Our sympathetic, fight flight system is activated, ready for
the worst.
This reaction is of course useful
when there is actually danger present. The problem occurs when the amygdala and
associated sympathetic nervous system are repeatedly or continuously activated,
so that the person is hyper-vigilant and unable to relax. With this defensive
system active, it becomes difficult to accurately perceive friendly social
impulses. For example, a child I treat immediately reacts violently if another
child accidentally brushes her shoulder. Once she has recovered, she feels
ashamed of her outburst. In that activated state, she is unable to
differentiate between friendly or accidental gestures and actual hostility or
threat. This requires a different part of the brain, the pre-frontal cortex,
which can calm fear, regulate emotions, and stimulate the social engagement
nervous system. Without its support, it becomes almost impossible to have
friends.
Mindfulness has been noted to settle
the amygdala and activate the pre-frontal cortex. This effectively brings the
person more fully into present time, where it is possible to accurately access
friendly vs. threatening approaches.
I consider Continuum to be a
mindfulness practice. We begin each session with some time in a “baseline,”
where we observe our starting point in relation to our breath and ground. We
note the qualities of the breath, where it moves in the body, how easily our
tissues move with the breath. We also attend to the places where our bodies
make contact with the surface we are on. To what extent are we able to rest or
yield into the support of gravity, or do we resist and pull away from that
support? How much of the body is resting or making contact? This quality of
mindful observation can shift our neurobiology.
This, however, is just our beginning.
We then enquire with various breaths, sounds and movement, practicing being
aware of the sensations they invoke in our bodies as we explore with them. Can
we sense the vibrations of an “O” sound, for example? Where do we sense it? How
much of the body is resonating with it? This is an indication of how fluid or
densified the tissues are. After practicing, we return to our baseline to check
how things may have changed. Often, we find our tissues have softened. We have
melted more into the floor. Our breath is slower, easier and fuller. We feel
remarkably alive, refreshed and relaxed.
Our practice of Continuum has a
major effect of slowing us down. When we are drawn into our trauma patterns, we
tend to accelerate. Peter Levine, founder of Somatic Experiencing, has referred
to the “trauma vortex,” where we are pulled into the trauma history or pattern quickly,
often before we even realize it is happening. Slowing down can help us to be
more at choice in this process. Our perception widens. We can remember what
supports or resources us in the midst of our conditions. In Continuum classes,
I advise participants to notice when their movement speeds up or is familiar or
repetitive. These are times to intentionally slow down, ask “What else?” and
apply certain sounds, breaths and movements that can interrupt the pattern.
These kinds of tools can be
empowering. Not only do we come more into presence and present time as we
mindfully observe our experience; we also can operate less on automatic and
habit. We have more freedom to make different choices, which can lead to
different outcomes. The result includes changes in not only the nervous system,
but also our tissues and our lives.
Emilie Conrad, Founder of Continuum Movement
Photo by Cherionna Menzam-Sills
Fabulous fabulous
ReplyDeleteThank you Trixy!
DeleteThank you....always very inspiring!
DeleteThank you Sanna!
Delete