| British Focusing Teachers Association |
|
| To navigate this site, you can either enable Javascript in your browser, or go via the site map. |
| Practising Presence: Focusing, Buddhist Understanding and Core Process psychotherapy |
| Susan Jordan |
[This is a slightly edited version of a dissertation submitted for the MA in Core Process psychotherapy in 2004.]
When I discovered Focusing, on the Core Process foundation course, I was intrigued by its potential for opening up inner experience but at first found the process hard to grasp. During the Core Process training I began to understand more of the power of working with the felt sense. At the end of the three-year course a number of us attended two weekends which taught the essentials of Focusing in ‘pure’ form. Once again I was fascinated by the depth of work which Focusing could offer even outside the context of psychotherapy. I was impressed by its possibilities for working with the imaginal realm and its ability to hold difficult emotions safely. However, I still felt that I could learn to use it more effectively in psychotherapy and benefit more from it myself. I attended further weekend courses and joined a Focusing group, in which members (who are not necessarily psychotherapists) exchange Focusing sessions with one another. More recently I have trained as a Focusing practitioner and teacher, so that I can explore the process further and incorporate it more skilfully into my work as a psychotherapist.
Focusing as originally taught by Gendlin has already developed a number of different strands. My main experience has been with Inner Relationship Focusing, taught by Barbara McGavin and Ann Weiser Cornell. Although it is not connected with any particular spiritual tradition – unlike Bio-Spiritual Focusing which grew from within the Roman Catholic church – many of its concepts, above all that of Presence, seem to have close links with Buddhist and Core Process understanding. The practice of Presence is fundamental to Focusing just as it is to Core Process work. Built around this practice the theory of Focusing, which is largely ‘felt theory’, complements and often illuminates both Buddhist and psychotherapeutic thinking. This dissertation will look at Focusing first of all in relation to Buddhist understanding and practice, and then in relation to the practice of Core Process psychotherapy, although as Buddhist understanding and practice underpin the Core Process model I shall try to make links between them throughout.
For many people there is an obvious connection between Focusing and Buddhist meditation practice, just as there is between Focusing and psychotherapy. It is not hard to see that both Focusing and Buddhist practice occupy a similar domain, even if the extent of the similarity is debatable. Both can lead to greater clarity, acceptance and spaciousness, but there are differing views on how far Focusing can take one beyond the conditioned mind into the larger realm of expanded awareness. In Toward a Psychology of Awakening[1] John Welwood makes a clear distinction:
…as Focusing is commonly practiced, there is often a bias toward unfolding meaning from a felt sense, toward resolution, toward looking for a felt shift. In this way, it can become a form of “doing” that maintains a subtle I/it stance towards one’s experience. The bias here can be very subtle. Wanting our experience to change usually contains a subtle resistance to what is, to nowness, to what I call unconditional presence- the capacity to meet experience fully and directly, without filtering it through any conceptual or strategic agenda.
As he sees it, Focusing does not take us into this larger awareness in the way that meditation can. Nor, on the whole, does psychotherapy. His view is that Focusing tries to bring about change and therefore remains in the conditioned realm while meditation simply holds an unconditioned, expansive space. Both psychotherapy and Focusing can help us to work through difficulties in the personal realm and prepare the ground for spiritual practice, without formally being spiritual practice. In Focusing, for instance, there is still a duality between experiencer and experienced:
Having allowed our experience to be as it is [in meditation], we can then let ourselves open to it more fully, no longer maintaining any distance between it and ourselves as observer, judge, or manager. This is the point where unconditional presence diverges from Focusing and other reflective methods. There is a complete opening to, entering into, and becoming one with the felt experience, without any attempt to find meaning in it, or to do anything with it, to it, or about it. What is most important here is not so much what we are feeling, but the act of opening to it.
According to Welwood, Focusing can bring clarity and resolution into personal issues but can go little farther because unlike meditation it still has an agenda. I would like to ask how far this is so, particularly with Inner Relationship Focusing which has developed a slightly different perspective, and what Focusing can offer to Buddhist practice. Could it ever be a means to liberation in the way that meditation can How far is this similar to or different from the nature of Core Process psychotherapy I am a Focuser and teacher of Focusing; I am also a long-time – if sometimes sporadic – meditator who has been on many retreats. As a Core Process psychotherapist who practises both Focusing and Buddhist meditation I am interested in finding ways in which each can inform the other. My main contact with Buddhism has been through the Theravada tradition and this exploration is based on my knowledge and practice within that tradition. Though theoretical understanding is important both Focusing and meditation can only be understood experientially, and I hope to say something about their experiential nature. Equally the joint practice of Core Process psychotherapy, for all its underlying body of theory, only comes to life in the moment when client and therapist meet.
It is well known that Gendlin’s original discovery of Focusing came about through research into what made psychotherapy effective[2]. His background was in philosophy and person-centered psychology, and although I understand from Maura Sills[3] that he also has experience of Buddhist theory and meditation he does not make this explicit in his writing. Nevertheless the nature of the Focusing process - sensing what is happening in the body, becoming aware of what is there in the moment, disidentifying from beliefs and emotions and learning to be with them rather than in them – seems to be readily compatible with Buddhist practice. In my experience the people who take to Focusing most readily are often Buddhist meditators. Sensing “how it is now” is also a cornerstone of Core Process psychotherapy, though in this case the sensing is not only internal but crucially includes the relationship, the space that comes into being within and around the shared awareness. Gendlin describes the difference between Focusing and meditation as taking the elevator part-way down instead of the whole way, which may imply – as Welwood suggests – that Focusing has less depth, or may point to the fact that it is a different kind of contemplation.
First of all to define the practices. Meditation, of course, is not one single practice but many ways of training the mind, engendering devotion and achieving stillness and insight. This may be through concentration on an object such as the breath or a visualization, or through ‘bare awareness’, where the mind is open to whatever arises in the moment. Where words are involved, this may be through the repetition of a mantra or set of phrases, or through ‘noting’ verbally what arises. Or there may be some combination of the verbal and non-verbal, as when one repeats a mantra in time with the breath, or visualises the world and its beings while inwardly speaking phrases of lovingkindness and well-wishing. Or there may be contemplation, where one uses the mind to uncover, say, the origins of a particular piece of suffering and thus realize its impermanence. This last has obvious similarities with both Focusing and psychotherapy. What is common to all meditation, however, is that the means are not the goal. Words drop away into the more than verbal; complex visualisations can still the mind until there is only space. What is also common is that it is solitary: even when meditating in a group of people, which can generate a powerful energy, there is no direct interaction. After the meditation there may be discussion with a teacher, but then the meditator returns to the cushion and continues in contained silence. Insights and discoveries, as they arise, are noted and then let go as the next moment comes into form. They are not articulated at the time: trying to formulate them would be seen as a distraction, an unnecessary intrusion of the rational mind.
Focusing can certainly be practised alone, but initially it is taught as a companioned practice. Most people find that until they are experienced in Focusing with a companion, Focusing alone is difficult as it involves knowing how to be companion to oneself. Just as being held in a psychotherapeutic relationship can help the client to internalise the sense of caring and holding, so a Focusing partner can model and convey the sense of unconditional Presence in the Focusing process. This is done partly through simply being present and partly through the language used, since language has a crucial part to play in Focusing. Unlike meditation Focusing uses language, or at any rate symbolization, in order to make explicit the ‘fuzzy’ felt sense that dwells at the edge of the implicit. A Focuser may remain completely silent if s/he chooses but often, when there is a companion, the Focuser chooses to speak the symbolization aloud and have it reflected back verbally - reflection can help to clarify and intensify felt sensing. When Focusing alone, a Focuser may talk her- or himself through the session almost as if s/he were a companion.
In Gendlin’s terms, the stages of the Focusing process are clearing a space, locating the felt sense – a bodily sensation or feeling – finding a handle which seems to fit it and which can be a word, phrase, gesture, image or sound, resonating or checking that handle with the felt sense, asking what it is about this whole thing that gives it this quality, and receiving the shift or opening which may then come. Inner Relationship Focusing has simplified the essence of the process still more into a cycle of three stages: sensing a [bodily] response [to something], symbolizing it, and sensing in the body whether that symbolization fits[4]. This then may lead on to a further symbolization or a new bodily response. Resonating the symbol enables the Focuser to sense more precisely what is there and how it alters from moment to moment. As this happens there may be an opening or letting go, a profound sense of acknowledgement that has no need to change anything but allows change to occur. Inner Relationship Focusing would not ‘ask’ the felt sense but would invite it to reveal itself to the extent that it was ready to do so.
In Gendlin’s original model the starting-point is often a problem or issue for which the Focuser is seeking some kind of resolution, and from this may have arisen Welwood’s perception that Focusing is wanting things to change or trying to do something to them. Similarly in psychotherapy the original impetus may come from an unresolved difficulty and the exploration may then widen and become less goal-directed. But this is not the only way to begin Focusing. Simply tuning in to what is there, as one might in meditation, can be the beginning of a journey of discovery in which who I thought I was may be very different from who I am in this moment. To the extent that it is still concerned with content and the personal Focusing differs from most meditation, but the fact that the Focuser is constantly open to what reveals itself in the present perhaps brings the two experiences closer than the description might imply. By giving attention to the subtle shifts and changes of the felt sense the Focuser already begins to loosen the sense of fixed ‘ego’ which meditation sees as ultimately unreal. Clearly there are differences; clearly also there are many similarities.
One obvious difference between both these practices and Core Process psychotherapy is that Focusing and many kinds of meditation are guided by technique, even if ultimately they transcend technique. Although the therapeutic encounter has set parameters – regular time and place, fixed duration – the shape and style of the exploration depends far more on the individual client and the particular relationship with the therapist. The therapist may bring in techniques such as Focusing if and when they seem helpful, but these may quickly be dropped if the client’s process moves elsewhere. The work is not only inward but with the relational field, the sense of being a person in relationship with another person which is absent in meditation and not central to Focusing. There may often be times when the therapist holds this sense and the client is seemingly unaware of it, but it is constant in the work. (For further discussion see Part II.)
In the rest of Part I, I shall look at some of the basic elements of Buddhist understanding and see to what extent they are paralleled in Focusing. I shall also enquire to some extent how this relates to Core Process psychotherapy, although Part II of the dissertation will address it more directly.
The various aspects of Buddhist teaching are very much an organic whole. In the Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta, the Buddha’s first sermon after his enlightenment, he enumerates the Four Noble (or ennobling) Truths of existence. In simplified essence these are that in our existence there is suffering or unsatisfactoriness (dukkha), that suffering is caused by craving – to have something that we do not have, not to have something that we do have, or to become something that we perceive we are not – that suffering can cease, and that there is a way to the cessation of suffering through the Noble Eightfold Path of morality, contemplation and wisdom. Our suffering comes about through ignorance or incorrect view (avijja). This view attributes our thoughts, feelings and perceptions to a fixed and permanent self which we then try to grasp as something real, rather than to a flow of experience that is not ‘mine’ but simply takes place. Clinging on to this sense of self perpetuates the cycle of birth and death (paticcasamuppada – dependent origination) which comes into being in each moment and in lifetime after lifetime so long as the clinging continues. It is through ignorance that the cycle repeats itself and we remain caught in the wheel.
Along with suffering and unsatisfactoriness, the Buddha teaches that the third attribute of experience is lack of permanence (anicca). Only when we have deeply apprehended these three qualities of existence can there be cessation (nibbana) and an end to the cycle of becoming. What remains is not nothing, but the Deathless or Buddha Nature or Brilliant Sanity – that which is unconditioned, beyond form and content, infinitely expansive and existing in all of us at every moment whether we recognise it or not, the state in which the inexorable momentum of dependent origination ceases to operate. The aspects of this state as it takes form in the world are the four interlinked Brahmaviharas, sometimes described as the abodes of the divine: Metta or lovingkindness, which wishes well to all beings, Karuna or compassion, which resonates with all suffering, Mudita or sympathetic joy, which is attuned to all that is joyful, and Upekkha or equanimity, which is serene and accepting even in the utmost extremes.
This is an extremely brief summary of teachings that it can take lifetimes to comprehend fully. Many means are available but neither meditation nor Focusing nor any other practice in and of itself is sufficient to bring about the fundamental realization. However, I believe that many routes and practices can help and both meditation and Focusing may be among them, as may contemplative psychotherapy. I would like to draw out some of the qualities that are similar and also see what the points of difference are.
In terms of the two practices, perhaps the most fundamental similarity is in what Inner Relationship Focusing describes as Presence. As with Core Process psychotherapy, all Focusing has an implicit trust that there is a larger space within us which is able to contain, accept and be alongside all that we experience, no matter how overwhelming it may seem. To begin with, however, Focusing did not always let things be: feelings and issues would be moved closer or farther away, the ‘inner critic’ (of which more below) would be put aside[5] or even in some cases actively fought with, the Focuser’s attention would be directed towards some areas and away from others. The emphasis in Inner Relationship Focusing on allowing everything to be there as it is aligns it more with the openness that meditation aspires to, and with the open and accepting nature of Core Process work. When I first heard Focusing spoken of in this way, I could immediately relate it to the domain of Core Process psychotherapy.
Ann Weiser Cornell speaks of the “radical acceptance of everything”[6], and shows how all our experience, no matter how difficult or unpleasant, can be respected and listened to in the wider space of Presence. Anything that arises is seen as ‘something there’ or ‘something in me’, not ‘myself’ but a being in its own right with which the larger ‘I’ can make a relationship (for more detail see Part II). In this sense it could be said that Focusing constantly recognises anatta, non-selfhood. The ‘somethings’ are not fixed entities but appear, disappear and are subject to change (anicca). Presence, in Focusing terms, has the qualities of the Brahmaviharas – kindness, compassion, acceptance, well-wishing, and attention to what is there now. It is seen as a state which anyone can learn to access: the ability to be in Presence is something that grows with practice and over time. As with the Buddhist understanding of Buddha Nature or Brilliant Sanity, the belief is that Presence is what we essentially are and has no limits. The only limit is the extent of our ability to tolerate it. Clearly the same is true in Core Process psychotherapy, but here the extent to which the therapist is able to hold the work and the client in the larger space may have far more effect, both directly and subtly.
One way that Inner Relationship Focusing encourages Presence is through the use of language. ‘Presence language’ is a means of stepping back from the immediate experience, not only by naming felt senses as ‘somethings’ but also by becoming conscious of the process of experiencing. The Focuser is encouraged to preface statements with phrases such as “I’m sensing…..” “I’m noticing…..”; even if the Focuser does not use them her/himself the companion will frame the reflection in this form. This enables the Focuser to hold the wider picture rather than identify or ‘merge’ with what is taking place. Because it creates a stronger identification, the phrase “I’m feeling……” is used less. Even if the Focuser finds it necessary to say “I’m feeling….”, the companion may well reflect back something like “You’re sensing that you’re feeling……..”, which helps the Focuser to retain some kind of spaciousness if s/he wishes. Some Vipassana meditation techniques use language in a slightly similar way, by ‘noting’ what comes into the mind. So the meditator may say internally “Thinking, thinking”, “Remembering, remembering” as these occur. However, the function of such ‘labelling’ is to usually to remind the meditator when the mind has strayed away from an object of meditation such as the breath, rather than to give attention to the activity itself.
Mindfulness meditation or ‘choiceless awareness’, where the meditator notices whatever presents itself to the mind, is probably closer to what Focusing does, and to the open space which psychotherapy offers. In meditation there are times when an emotion or physical sensation does not quickly pass away. Then the meditator may spend time with it until there is more space and Presence, although without the symbolization that plays such a large part in Focusing. In Focusing one may choose to sit silently with what arises, but often it is symbolizing the sensation and then resonating the symbol with the felt sense that creates spaciousness. The ‘felt shift’ may be just this: not a new resolve for action or even a new cognitive understanding but a simple “Ah” of recognition and acceptance. “Ah yes, so that’s there”. Within both meditation and Focusing the desire to get rid of whatever has arisen may well also be present, and in both there might be a sense of relief when this too is recognised. In psychotherapy this sensing and recognition in the moment is supported by the gradual acceptance that comes about through the relationship.
In A Gradual Awakening Stephen Levine[7] describes what he calls self-accepting mindfulness:
When we can be with whatever is happening in the moment, our sense of completeness will be present. Our feeling of wholeness, of fulfilment, will be present as we open to whatever’s happening in the moment. We don’t have to do anything about it.
Simply paying attention to what appears at this moment in our experience is of crucial importance in Buddhist practice, whether in meditation or in daily life. Right mindfulness is one of the factors of the Noble Eightfold Path. In the Mahasatipatthana Sutta the Buddha defines the four foundations of mindfulness the body, the feelings in the body (i.e. finding experience pleasant, unpleasant or neutral), the mind, and the contents of the mind. All of these can be contemplated in meditation and at other times. There are techniques for doing so – such as body-sweeping – and there is also the practice of choiceless awareness, which welcomes whatever may arise, be it blissful or painful or anything in between.
So long as ‘I’, the meditator, have a view of what I should or should not be experiencing, there is attachment and a sense of self. Focusing does not use the concepts of mindfulness or attachment but recognises the importance of paying attention to all aspects of experience. The Focusing process usually begins by bringing awareness into the body and then sensing for what needs attention, which may be a feeling or emotion in the body. It also acknowledges mind-states, thoughts and images as they arise. Whatever comes into consciousness, the Focuser takes time to sense its quality – what this is uniquely in this moment. If there is a sense that it is pleasant or unpleasant, then the Focuser will recognise that ‘something in me’, rather than ‘I’, finds it so. Although the essence of Focusing is that it remains connected with body sensing, thoughts are not ruled out but are seen as other ‘somethings’ which may need attention. The Focuser is not aiming to change anything but to welcome everything without identifying with it and allow it to be known as fully as possible.
Often Buddhist meditators have a strong feeling that they ought to be mindful and reproach themselves for not being so, and sometimes mindfulness may be identified with narrow concentration on a particular action or task to the exclusion of all else. In both these cases the meditator may have deeply ingrained judgements about what mindfulness is or is not, and may be completely unmindful of these judgements. There may also be a belief that if judgements arise, they should be put aside or got rid of. Many people who have been meditating for years are still caught in beliefs about what meditation is supposed to be and how they should be doing it. It seems to me that the whole area of self-judgement is one where Focusing has much to offer to those who meditate, in terms of mindfulness of what is happening. In Focusing the ‘oughts’ and ‘shoulds’ are seen as ‘parts’ or ‘somethings’, which need to be heard and may in fact be very different from the way they present themselves. For instance a harsh judgement of some aspect of oneself can reveal an underlying concern that something feared may happen if that aspect is not kept under control. Then there may be other parts which are reacting to the judgements, and these too can be welcomed and heard.
Recognising and accepting all the parts that are there in this moment can help to give more space for metta towards oneself. There are many specific Buddhist practices for generating states such as metta, either as a preparation for mindfulness meditation or as a meditation in their own right. Though often difficult because of the amount of ‘negative’ emotion that comes to light, these meditations can be extremely helpful in creating a more kindly attitude towards oneself as well as others. Focusing does not have practices for doing this, but Focusers may become aware that these states occur more easily as one encourages kindness and respect towards the different ‘somethings’ within. I have found that the sense of Presence and kindliness developed through Focusing has become more readily available to me both in meditation and in the practice of psychotherapy, and has enabled me to help clients develop more compassion towards themselves.
As experience arises in the moment, it undergoes a shift from our immediate apprehension into something more solid and conditioned by habitual patterns. Buddhist teaching describes the way in which it solidifies in terms of the five kandhas or aggregates (Sanskrit skandhas) form, feeling, perception, volition and mental formation, all of which are linked and may come into play in any given moment. This happens almost instantaneously but can be brought into awareness, after the event even if not at the time. So, for instance, I might see something which I recognise as the form of my friend (to put it slightly oddly). I feel pleasure at seeing my friend, my perception is that she is pleased to see me, I make a move towards her and I create fantasies of what we will talk about together. In this way the five kandhas may each build on the other, although in any individual or at any one time a particular kandha may predominate. In meditation practice it is possible to slow the mind down so that the process of formation becomes apparent as it happens; often it is so fast and so ingrained that one does not catch it. Although Focusing may not be able to do this, I have a sense that it could dismantle the process in reverse. I might start off, say, with a story-line about someone on the Tube who I believed was trying to steal my bag. When I acknowledge this belief I might sense in my body a strong wish to get away from this person, a view of this person as shifty and aggressive and a fundamental feeling of fear and dislike. As I recognise all of these, I begin to see that some of my projections towards this person come from ‘in here’ and not ‘out there’, and I may then see the person in a simpler, less personally loaded way. I would not consciously try to work through the kandhas in Focusing but it seems the model could have points of contact with the Focusing process.
Sometimes one or more kandhas may predominate in the way that we relate to the world, for instance if someone has a habitual perception that other people are threatening, or dwells continually in a feeling state such as depression. Focusing can work with these ‘wallpaper’ feelings or thought-patterns by sensing that they are there, welcoming them, and investigating what they are really trying to convey. This again de-solidifies them and opens up a wider awareness. It also enables the Focuser to make a relationship with them rather than ignore them or react to them. Clearly meditation does this too, particularly in extended periods of practice. In psychotherapy the therapist may over time help the client to see where s/he has repeatedly become caught in habitual patterns but may do so by direct comment and intervention, so that the process is not only internal. Whether through meditation or Focusing or in psychotherapy, the discovery of such previously unrecognised states can lead to more spaciousness and a deep letting go. If there is any difference in quality between meditation and Focusing, I would say that Focusing can sometimes lead more quickly to a sense of acceptance and forgiveness than meditation does. In partnered Focusing acceptance by another is sensed implicitly in the nature of the companion’s listening; in psychotherapy too it is implicit in the field, but it can also be brought into conscious awareness.
Anyone who practises meditation will have encountered at least some of the five hindrances named by the Buddha: greed, sloth and torpor, anger and ill-will, restlessness, and doubt. In the suttas there are particular remedies prescribed for each such as replacing anger with lovingkindness, in some circumstances at least. In other circumstances meditators are advised to stay with and contemplate the difficult state, noting that it is there and perhaps discovering its origins, without relating to it too personally. Whatever the means of working with the hindrance, the aim is to return to the meditation once it has been dealt with.
Because it does not have a defined object Inner Relationship Focusing does not regard anything as a hindrance in quite this way, although it is easy for a Focuser (or something in the Focuser) to do so. In fact situations where a part of me is wanting to be with something while another part is wanting to go to sleep, run away, eat chocolate, have a row with someone, or give up the whole thing because it’s not going anywhere are extremely common. Very often the Focuser will have become identified with one part that has arisen, either the part that wants to ‘get it right’, or a part that is rebelling or else feeling bad about not getting it right. The way that Focusing relates to these parts is again to acknowledge that they are both (or all) there. Siding with the ‘good’ one alone usually creates more conflict and impasse. The Treasure Maps to the Soul work devised by Barbara McGavin and Ann Weiser Cornell[8] describes the warring parts as ‘agents’ and ‘controllers’ on the one hand those that act unilaterally or refuse to act, and on the other hand those that try to stop them or make them act; or in other words those that are done to and those that do to them. What is important is first of all to listen to what each part is not wanting, gradually working down from a concrete set of consequences towards an underlying feeling or the fear of a feeling. The Focuser can also invite the parts to let her/him know what they are wanting, again moving down from a concrete outcome to a feeling state in the body. In practice the process does not happen as systematically as this and would most likely not be completed in a single session. In psychotherapy too, acknowledging and honouring these ‘shadow’ parts over time is essential in working towards greater healing and wholeness. Although the techniques are particular to Focusing – with a companion or alone – there seems to be much here that a meditator can usefully adopt not identifying exclusively with one side of the conflict, not getting rid of the hindrance but allowing it to be there, recognizing that in all the ‘parts’ there is a fundamental wanting for peace, joy and aliveness, and also recognizing how much valuable energy there is in the ‘agents’ that refuse to toe the line. All this again can help circumnavigate some of the ‘oughts’ and ‘shoulds’ and increase the sense of metta. However, working with the ‘somethings’ in this way could personalize them and make them seem like real beings rather than impersonal states of mind.
So far I have looked at specific aspects of Buddhist teaching and related them to Focusing practice. But what of the larger picture How does Focusing see the nature of the self, and of desire How far do are the aims of Focusing compatible with those of Buddhist practice, and where does a Buddhist-based psychotherapy fit in this I have already described how techniques of Focusing such as ‘Presence language’ are conducive to a greater sense of spaciousness and ‘not-self’ within the process. In Core Process psychotherapy the emphasis is on the quality of the relationship and the space in which the work is held rather than minutiae of language, but the intention is similar. People sometimes ask in Focusing workshops who ‘I’ am when there are so many parts and ‘somethings’ that appear, and the only satisfactory answer seems to be that ultimately ‘I’ am Presence – not the small ‘I’ but something greater. Nevertheless the language of Focusing remains very much in the realm of the personal. A Focuser will often say “I’m sensing something in me …..” and may refer to “my body”, “my arm”, “my head”, rather than “the body” and “the head” as in meditation. Whether this leads to a greater identification with the sense of self is a question, but what it also does is to hold the Focuser compassionately as a person. As an over-simplification, one could say that in the balance between wisdom and compassion Focusing may err on the side of compassion, while some forms of meditation hold stringently to wisdom above all.
In Core Process psychotherapy one would not seek to depersonalize the client’s experience. For many clients, developing a fuller sense of oneself as a embodied being such a necessary part of the work that any intervention which detracts from strengthening the ‘I’ – even sometimes using ‘Presence language’ – would not serve. In A Path with Heart[9] Jack Kornfield describes how someone who had practised body-sweeping meditation for many years had depersonalized his emotions to such an extent that he could perceive them only as bodily sensation. His awareness of sensation was clear and precise but bypassed the level of personality where feelings reside – so that, for instance, he could identify a fast heartbeat, heat in the body and sweaty palms, but could not recognise these manifestations as anger, or as personal. The task of psychotherapy was to help the client become aware of himself as a person. Such depersonalization can happen in Focusing, but the constant encouragement to make a relationship with what arises can be a useful bridge between the personal and the impersonal. At the other extreme it can also help someone who is constantly immersed in feeling to step back from it into a place where the feeling is no longer so personally ‘mine’. My own experience is that both meditation and Focusing can enable one to be with whatever arises, but there is a subtle difference. I remember once Focusing with an intensely difficult feeling and sensing strongly that I needed to be with it in a meditative way. As soon as I tried, however, I realised that the ‘something’ wanted a more personal contact not just spacious awareness around it, but someone or something that could metaphorically come closer and hold its hand. The spacious awareness was not lost but it took on a more personal tinge, as it might in a psychotherapeutic relationship where the need for contact could be explicitly met or explored with another person. (There is nothing to stop a Focusing companion offering touch, but it is not brought into relationship in the same way.) I would not necessarily see this difference in the quality of ‘being with’ as more of an identification with the smaller self. Perhaps rather it is an active expression of the qualities of metta and karuna from the place of Presence, something that the Focuser is offering internally to her/himself and that the psychotherapist may also, when appropriate, offer outwardly to the client. Whether from this place one can ever truly reach a sense of anatta is, I believe, to be explored by the individual.
The fact that Focusing is often practised with a partner also seems to place it firmly in the personal realm. However much the Focuser’s attention is directed internally, the presence of another person inevitably has an effect. There is communication, and the Focuser may have feelings about the companion’s skill or otherwise in following and reflecting. These feelings can become material for the Focusing, just as in meditation reactions to outside events can become part of the contemplation. A skilful companion will help the Focuser to bring attention to them and will not get in the way. And, as I have said earlier, the companion can model Presence and acceptance at moments when the Focuser loses them. He or she can also offer kindness and compassion without intruding on the Focuser’s process although, unlike psychotherapy, doing so does not involve direct dialogue. It is not my experience that Focusing with a companion confines it to the realm of the personal any more than psychotherapy has to be confined to this realm. In both cases what arises is what arises, but I can see that for some meditators this personal engagement might be a concern.
The question of desire is a complex one. It is easy for meditators to assume that all desire is to be eliminated, when in reality desire is inevitable and it is attachment to fulfilling desire that causes suffering. Nevertheless in meditation I would not be encouraged to dwell on what I want or how I might achieve it the emphasis is on acknowledging the desire and letting it go. While Focusing may help the Focuser to disengage from concrete desires – whether wantings or not-wantings – like psychotherapy it can support someone to find out what s/he really wants and move towards it. In the Treasure Maps model, as the wanted feeling begins to emerge the Focuser may sense how that feeling can be achieved in reality. If the Focuser is sensing the wanting at that depth there may not be an attachment to a particular means or outcome, but there is still a belief that reaching for what I want is a valid endeavour. On a worldly plane Buddhism would not necessarily deny this, so long as there is a fundamental non-attachment. Despite our conditioning to the contrary, unhappiness and unfulfilment are no more spiritual than happiness and fulfilment. Buddhist teaching states that attaining good fortune is preferable to its opposite, but this is regarded as a lesser happiness than the joy of liberation. Many Focusers would not seek to go beyond fulfilling their desire, and Focusing does not require more. Like psychotherapy it leaves the choice with the individual. But there is a difference between using either Focusing or psychotherapy in order to get what I want – just as, more subtly, one can use meditation to bring about a desired state – and allowing what I want to emerge through the process.
Focusing talks of the ‘living forward energy’ inherent in all the different parts and stuck places. Once this energy begins to be released – once there is less investment in who I think I am - the person can live a fuller, more joyful, less contorted life. Again this is very much in line with the Core Process model, in which as the denser and more structured aspects of the personality begin to release there is greater access to the freedom and energy that come from the Core. The benefits of meditation and spiritual practice certainly start from this place though they do not end there, whereas this may be as far as a Focuser or a psychotherapy client chooses to go. Focusing does not address the ethical side of spiritual practice – right livelihood, right speech and right action – but if there is an implicit ethical assumption it is that the more loving, accepting and compassionate we are towards ourselves, the more we can offer those qualities towards other beings and the planet. Beyond this it is for individual Focusers to explore what is right for them.
I have asked whether Focusing’s similarities to meditation mean that it can lead to liberation, or at least give a taste of it. I have also begun to ask where psychotherapy, in particular Core Process psychotherapy, sits in relation to the two practices. Having described some of the ways in which Focusing relates to meditation, I believe that although it does not necessarily do so, it can touch into a place where there is a profound letting-go of what ‘I’ think I am. Just as I have been privileged to be with clients experiencing such moments in psychotherapy, I have known of Focusing sessions where the Focuser has reached a deep and joyful sense that “There’s no-one there”, that all there is is light and space. Of course in many other Focusing sessions the Focuser reaches no such state but thanks and accepts whatever arises, as a meditator might. If a Focuser does access a less personal place, Focusing does not see that it is permanent or fixed. If it is ‘mine’, it is mine to the extent that at any given time I am one with the larger state of Presence, which can also be found through meditation. In meditation there is no limit to what one could experience; the only limit is what one is able to experience. From my own practice it seems to me that the same to is essentially true of Focusing just as it is of psychotherapy, and especially of an approach like Core Process in which awareness of Brilliant Sanity constantly informs the work. The rest of this dissertation will concentrate on the relationship of Focusing to Core Process psychotherapy.
In this second part, looking at Focusing in relation to Core Process psychotherapy, I shall bring in some of my own experience of working with Focusing. In a sense Focusing stands midway between meditation and psychotherapy more personal and concerned with content than meditation but less engaged in relationship than psychotherapy. I have already tried to show some of the ways in which Focusing meets or differs from meditation. I shall now explore some of the similarities and differences between working with the felt sense in Focusing and in Core Process psychotherapy, and the use of Focusing in my own practice as a psychotherapist. The examples of my own work come largely from clients about whom I have already written case studies.
In Focusing-Oriented Psychotherapy Gendlin[10] makes it clear that Focusing can be incorporated into a range of therapeutic approaches. Core Process psychotherapy is perhaps unique in that the felt sense is integral to the model. In Core Process understanding, the felt sense is seen as a stage in the arising of experience which is close enough to the Core to remain fluid and unfixed, and therefore open to transformation, but personal enough to be worked with psychotherapeutically. The felt sense is a point at which it is possible to loosen the attachment to self created as experience comes into form. Gendlin[11] often describes the felt sense as “fuzzy” or not fully known, and this quality, as well as the fact that it arises from bodily sensing, distinguishes it from more solid formations such as emotion. Gendlin demonstrates many ways in which psychotherapy clients can be helped to access the felt sense, and gives pointers for working in this way.
At the risk of stating the obvious I shall start by considering some of the similarities and differences between a companioned Focusing session and a psychotherapy session. In both Focusing and psychotherapy, the presence of the listener is crucial to the client’s learning to relate to the inner experience. In Focusing this is the sole purpose of the relationship. The companion holds the space of Presence and gently reminds the Focuser of it at moments when there seems to be too-close identification (‘merging’) with the process, or too much distance from it. So, for instance, the companion might suggest at a given moment that the Focuser checks back into the body or senses for an emotional quality, but the Focuser is entirely free to reject the suggestion and does not need to take the companion's feelings into account. Other than offering the occasional suggestion the companion simply holds the space, resonates with the process and, if the Focuser wishes, reflects back what the Focuser has said in language and tone similar to the Focuser’s own. The companion does not need to be trained in psychotherapy, but the more deeply the companion can contact his or her own felt sense and stay in Presence, the more spacious and resonant the listening will be. A companion who can repeat back literally what the Focuser says but is not in tune with the underlying felt sense may not be so helpful as one who is less verbally accurate but more responsive to the process. Verbal accuracy is important, however. A particular word, if it arises from the felt sense, conveys a nuance which a different word will lack, and the Focuser may need to hear this word reflected and no other. Language is a key aspect of the listener’s reflection and Inner Relationship Focusing has given it particular attention.
Nothing in the process described above is different from the fundamental aspects of psychotherapeutic encounter, in the Core Process understanding presence, access, process, resonance, reflection, transformation, integration. In Focusing, the Focuser is encouraged to access the felt sense through the body and to stay in contact with bodily sensing. Once process is under way the companion uses resonance and reflection, which help to deepen the experience and, as more attention is paid to it, can lead to its transformation, described by Gendlin as the “felt shift”[12]. In Focusing the final stage, the integration of the shift, tends to happen implicitly. The Focuser may thank the body for what has come (a surprisingly powerful formula) and let the felt sense know that s/he will return to it if it feels unfinished, but beyond this it is not the role of the companion to discuss the experience with the Focuser. In fact too much discussion of the content is often discouraged as it can lead the Focuser away from the integrity of the felt sense. The companion is intensely present with the Focuser during the Focusing process but does not need to know of its ramifications in the Focuser’s life.
The Focusing companion follows process with the utmost respect for the Focuser. The Focuser can correct the companion, ask her/him to be quiet, request reminders or repetitions, and choose to ignore any suggestions. The Focuser is free to use movement, sound, gesture, anything which expresses the nature of the felt sense, or to sit for the whole session in complete silence. Anything that the Focuser says is accepted and, if the Focuser wishes, reflected back, be it bad language, nonsensical imagery, or extreme and desperate feelings. This reflection can be a powerful tool for supporting the Focuser’s ability to be with experience. Everything that arises for the Focuser and the companion is held in Presence, and this creates a great sense of safety. I have found that being a Focusing companion is an excellent way of learning to follow a client’s process with more accuracy and sensitivity.
Although being present with the inner journey is essential, following process in Core Process psychotherapy needs to be defined more widely. The therapist may need to decide if and when it is appropriate to use Focusing interventions, and when to engage with the client on a different level. There may be times when reflection and mirroring are important for the client and other times when the therapist needs to challenge, question or voice her/his own responses. As both Gendlin[13] and Ann Weiser Cornell[14] make clear, the crucial difference between a Focusing partnership and a therapeutic alliance is that in psychotherapy the relationship itself is part of the work. For this reason a psychotherapeutic relationship is designated as special and its boundary is kept, while a Focusing companion may be a friend, a relative, a professional Focusing practitioner or simply someone with whom one has a Focusing partnership. Whatever the outside relationship, the role of the companion is the same for the duration of the Focusing session. Very often the companioning will be reciprocal, as it is in co-counselling. If issues come up that are connected with the relationship between the two parties – as they may if Focusing with, say, a life partner – the companion does not engage with them but directs the Focuser’s attention back to the inner process. At the same time the companion remains aware of her/his own felt sense and may perhaps work with it separately in their own session. This approach can be a profound means of discovering the underlying dynamics, but it could sometimes bypass the fact that there is a relationship and leave the client in a rather lonely and solipsitic place. (There is a branch of Focusing, Interactive Focusing,[15] which addresses issues of relationship, but its emphasis is not primarily on what is happening between client and therapist.) In skilful psychotherapy the therapist is both helping the client to deepen her/his inner awareness and also being there as another person, sensing the nature of the relationship and feeding back feelings and responses. What happens between is essential, as well as what happens within. Processes such as transference, projective identification and denial of the relationship all call forth a response from the therapist which might not be adequately expressed by simple reflection.
Compared with Focusing the process of psychotherapy is often broader and less intense. The psychotherapist is concerned with the client as a whole, and the context of the client’s life, the day-to-day, sometimes trivial detail, the whole aspect of ‘story’, needs to be honoured and valued. I remember how important it was in my own therapy when I first realised that my therapist was interested in me as a person and not just in my ‘stuff’. I didn’t have to go into a deep piece of process but could be there as I was and still be held in the relationship. I can also think of one client for whom simply sitting there in relationship and being ordinary, without diving into the felt sense, was difficult and enormously worthwhile. However, I do not underestimate the importance of working with the felt sense within psychotherapy. I am also not implying that Focusing does not value these other elements of a person’s process, though it does not work primarily at that level.
Core Process psychotherapy defines different modes of access to process. These include bodily, emotional, imaginal/archetypal and cognitive, which correspond closely to the four aspects of the ‘full felt sense’, as it has sometimes been called body sensing, emotion, imagery and ‘aboutness’. Of these, aboutness is seen to need least attention and can most easily be left implicit. In psychotherapy, however, much as one might encourage the client to move from the cognitive into deeper and less formed layers of experience, the cognitive aspect needs to be received in order for the person to feel valued as whole. Focusing values the cognitive dimension – as a philosopher, Gendlin has explored the use of Focusing with thinking - but in psychotherapy there may well be far more time spent making connections and integrating on a cognitive level, while exploring the felt sense will probably occupy a smaller proportion of the session. In psychotherapy, working with the felt sense arises within the context and the relationship; in Focusing, context and relationship do not necessarily figure in working with the felt sense.
Although Gendlin did not originally use the term Presence, Focusing has always recognised it as the sine qua non for the work, both for the Focuser and the companion. Bio-spiritual Focusing speaks of “Caring Feeling Presence”[16] while Inner Relationship Focusing simply calls it Presence[17]. I have found that Focusing and companioning other Focusers has greatly enhanced my ability to hold process, both my own and clients’, in this larger space of Presence. This has come about partly through learning to be with the felt sense more easily and safely, and partly through the use of ‘Presence language’, which I have found an extremely useful tool in Focusing. I am still exploring the use of it in psychotherapy.
Clients who come into psychotherapy with a background in meditation often find it hard to see how much criticism and judgement they are imposing on themselves. “I should be more compassionate with this”, “I know I ought to make more space around it” – such comments are surprisingly frequent. Equally common are self-critical statements like “I feel so useless for not being able to do it” or “I’m so ashamed of feeling like this”, or expressions of emotion like “I feel so terrible, it’s just completely overwhelming”. Despite the intention on the therapist’s part to hold the larger space, it is sometimes hard to help the client disidentify from the judgement or the feeling. So long as someone is saying “I feel terrible” the sense of self that is created is tremendously strong, as is the constriction that accompanies it. In Focusing ‘Presence language’ can help someone not to become completely submerged. (See Part I). Although these phrases, taken out of context, may sound cumbersome or formulaic, my experience is that they can be extremely effective in allowing more space and acceptance. They could be used by the client, if and when appropriate, but in psychotherapy it would often be the therapist who, by using this language, could stay in Presence and remind the client of the larger space.
What Presence language does is to create a frame around experience, so that the experiencer is no longer totally identified with it. In Focusing one is still working with the content rather than letting it pass away, but the assumption is that It (the felt sense) knows what it needs and, when given enough attention, will no longer continue to arise. There are a number of ways in which the felt sense or felt senses – for there may be more than one at a time – can be addressed, but essential to all of them are the Presence statements “I’m sensing….”, “I’m noticing….” A number of different words can be used, such as “I’m realising”, “I’m remembering” but, as mentioned in Part I, saying “I’m feeling…” tends to reinforce identification with the emotion and block further exploration. The only circumstance in which “You’re feeling…..” might be used is when there is already a sense of Presence and expansiveness that is not partial. Otherwise what the Focuser is sensing is usually a ‘something’ or a ‘part’.
As well as using verbs such as “You’re sensing…”, Presence language makes great use of the word ‘something’. So a reflection might often take the form “You’re sensing something in you that feels…”, making clear that it is the something that feels rather than the Focuser’s awareness, which is keeping the feeling company. In this way a deconstruction takes place, loosening the sense of self that otherwise might attach to the feeling. In psychotherapy such somethings might be implicit in what the client says and the therapist would need to judge whether or not it would be helpful to name them. In Focusing one suggestion or reminder is “You might like to sense how It feels from Its point of view”, implying that there may be other points of view also present feelings about the feeling, and feelings about the feelings about the feeling, and so on. There is no limit to the number of somethings, although the Focuser can usually sense which of them needs attention at that moment. Again this awareness of the different levels – feelings about feelings and judgements about judgements – quite naturally substitutes a sense of process for the sense of a fixed, unified self. What is unified, although not fixed, is Presence, which holds all the somethings and in whose field they all arise. In whatever way they are seen and described, this also remains true in Core Process psychotherapy.
Sometimes in Focusing a ‘something’ can become more definite and take on a life of its own, in which case the Focuser may wish to name it as a part. A ‘part’ in this sense is a purely temporary description; it is not seen as a solid entity or sub-personality, which once again would halt the flow of process. The parts that arise in a particular Focusing session may or may not appear again, and if they do the sense of them may be different each time. A sensed part may have a definite location in the “felt body”, which can include the sensed area around the physical body. This recognizes that not all felt senses are located in the central area, as Gendlin first assumed, and gives space for energetic and subtle-body experiences within the Focusing process, though these senses might not be experienced as anything so solid as a “part”.
Often two or more parts may be in opposition to each other and the companion can help the Focuser to sense this. Someone might say, for instance, “I want to clean out my cupboards but I never seem to get round to it.” Here there may be a part that doesn’t want to clean out the cupboards, a part that is trying to bully that part into doing it, and perhaps a part that would really like to do it. The result is stalemate. I have sometimes found it helpful to suggest to clients in psychotherapy that there may be different parts operating in this way, and particularly to acknowledge that all of them are there so that the client does not need to identify with any one. In Gestalt-type ways of working, the assumption would be that these parts need to enter into dialogue with each other. But just as Focusing tends not to use dialogue to address interpersonal situations, so in this intra-personal conflict the Focuser would give attention to one part at a time, finding out particularly what that part is afraid might happen if its desired goal does not come about (see also Part I.) In this work the companion may seem to become slightly more directive, but at every stage the Focuser can reject the suggestion and continue in her/his own way. Again I would be very careful of using such interventions in a psychotherapy session (see “Bethany” below) and would always drop them if the client was not comfortable with them.
With regard to such interventions Inner Relationship Focusing discourages the use of direct questions at any stage since they make too much demand for a response, which pulls the Focuser out of relationship with the felt sense. A preferred form of words could be “You might like to see if it feels right to sense whether …”, leaving the exploration in the Focuser’s control. I have found this kind of language useful in psychotherapy but in a psychotherapy session would certainly not rule out direct questions, as they can help maintain the relationship. If offering a tentative interpretation I would often use a Focusing-type format like “I’m wondering if …..” as this puts less pressure on the client to accept it.
The work with conflicting parts and their not wanting (and ultimately wanting) has arisen from Treasure Maps to the Soul[18], a particular body of Focusing theory and practice which addresses some of the most stuck places in which we find ourselves self-criticism, depression, addictions, overwhelming or absent feelings, and action blocks. All of these are familiar areas in psychotherapy, and clients may spend a great deal of time struggling with them without finding an obvious way through. On the whole I find that if I start to look for an intervention that will help unstick things, then – for want of a better word – I usually come unstuck. I am trying to fix something that needs to be accepted. My experience of working with a client who seemed extremely stuck was that the only thing which enabled his process to move was my giving up on it and acknowledging deeply how stuck he was. At that point he left therapy, but he had been empowered to make his own decision.
Although a shift in the therapist’s attitude may be all that is needed, I believe that the Treasure Maps work has much to offer in these difficult places. It can help unpack some of the different layers and enable the client to see that they are only ‘somethings’ and are not ‘me’, particularly at times when the client is being hard on her/himself or feelings threaten to become overwhelming. I feel I have a good deal more to learn about working skilfully in this way, but even using the basic Presence language in reflection can be a tool for holding the process in a wider awareness. It can remind me, as therapist, not to become too attached to the ‘somethings’. What prevents change – whether I am using Focusing interventions or not – is often my attachment to a particular outcome, which means that I am no longer in Presence even if I am saying the right words.
The Treasure Maps theory brings together experientially several strands of psychological thinking in terminology that is deliberately non-technical. Its main model depicts the structure of inner conflict as many-layered, with ‘OK-me’ – my functioning defences - at the surface and the living-forward force at the bottom, waiting to be released by the power of Presence. Above the living-forward force is the trauma line, described as “the physical encoding of the rejection of that part of your living forward.” This is similar to Core Energetics[19] and other humanistic models, where at different stages energy is withdrawn from parts of ourselves that have become unacceptable and we adapt our structure accordingly. Just above the trauma line is the “dreaded feeling” - how we felt originally when the living forward energy was rejected - and above the ‘dreaded feeling’, which we will go to great lengths not to feel, is the “dreaded ‘truth’” – a belief about ourselves that has come about through the trauma. The Firewall tries to keep the “dreaded feeling” and “dreaded ‘truth’” from consciousness, but when it is breached a shadow of the “dreaded feeling” breaks through the Crust and triggers the different kinds of conflict. For the whole model see Barbara McGavin and Ann Weiser Cornell’s diagram (Appendix i).
What seems to me distinctive about this model is its accessibility and the clarity with which the layers are related to one another, showing the different defence mechanisms at work. All of it can be directly experienced, if and when someone is ready to experience it. The Treasure Maps work emphasizes the dread of the unwanted feelings coming into consciousness, since they threaten our notions of who ‘I’ am. The most savagely self-critical parts and the most irreconcilable of conflicts can in fact be a protection against these catastrophic feelings. Once they are acknowledged and accepted, the healing potential held in them can begin to be accessed. In the example I gave earlier about cleaning out the cupboards, being in Presence with one part would not only find out what it did not want, it would also eventually reveal what that part wanted. It then usually becomes apparent that the different parts want similar states – peace, freedom, joy, energy – which are aspects of Presence. Like the Core Process approach, working in this way places great trust in the healing that arises naturally from awareness. In psychotherapy I might not want to use the model explicitly, but it can help me as a therapist to hold the belief that everything in us has a right to exist and a reason for existing.
Many clients who come into psychotherapy are either unable to feel or else overwhelmed by feeling. Or they may experience aspects of both, or commonly may alternate between the two. This is particularly characteristic of people who carry the effects of severe trauma, which may be too early or too painful to be consciously remembered. Using Presence language can at times be helpful here, as can identifying that at this moment there is possibly more than one part involved, for instance something that feels overwhelmed and something that seems overwhelming. It may take a long time in psychotherapy before a client is able to stay with any felt sense of this without becoming overwhelmed, and within a psychotherapy session the time spent doing so may be only a small fraction of the whole. It may also mean that until the client is able to be more present with the feeling, the therapist is holding Presence, or Brilliant Sanity. If the therapist is able to do this, and can resonate with the feeling without becoming overwhelmed by it, this can eventually create a safe enough space for the client to hold more of the feeling her/himself. This obviously applies whether or not Focusing interventions are being used but, as I have said earlier, my experience of the Focusing process has given me a more tangible sense of what it means to be present in this way.
With feelings that are not felt, it may be possible first of all to bring awareness to the part that does not want to feel, then perhaps to the part that is protecting it from feeling and, very slowly and gradually, to the feeling that wants to be felt – and that seems so huge and frightening because it has not been felt. Working with such an edge either in Focusing or psychotherapy means taking great care that the client does not push her/himself beyond what really feels safe, as this is often a tendency with extreme feelings. The result may then be overwhelm, which is self-defeating. The therapist may need to be aware that there is a part which in desperation or bravado is trying to override the sense of protection and by doing so is in fact avoiding the feeling. I have found understanding the extremes of not-feeling and overwhelm in this way helpful for myself; I hope it can also help me to be more fully present with clients’ process in this delicate area.
While not everyone accesses imagery in either Focusing or psychotherapy, for many people this is a rich and meaningful aspect of process. In the Core Process model the archetypal/imaginal layer lies close to the felt sense. It is seen as less formed than the more personal layers, and therefore can be more easily open to transformative work. In psychotherapy I have found that some clients naturally work with imagery while for others it seems to have little relevance. Should an image arise for me as a client is talking, I will sometimes offer it back. For some people the response is immediate “Yes, it’s just like that” or “No, it’s more like…” ; with others there is a baffled pause, as though I had said something in a foreign language. Often when someone begins to drop down into a deeper level of experiencing, images will arise spontaneously and can convey what is happening with great immediacy. Sometimes a recurring image or symbol will be associated with a particular feeling, or sometimes a ‘character’ will be created who embodies certain qualities.
As someone with a lifelong interest in story and imagination I am curious about the place of the imaginal in the process of self-discovery. To me Focusing seems to find a particular way of welcoming and integrating it. Often in my own Focusing I know I have reached a deeper stage when the imagery begins to take on a life of its own. Different parts, located in different areas of the body, start to seem like characters in a story whose feelings and actions I can then follow. Or perhaps a bodily/emotional feeling which had seemed intractable will begin to open and change as it shapes itself into some kind of image. Barbara McGavin and Ann Weiser Cornell[20] distinguish between “kinaesthetic” imagery, which grows directly out of bodily sensation – “It’s sort of thin and flat and a very bright red, and it’s right here in the middle of my chest” – and imagery which, though vivid and compelling, is more like a film running in the head. This kind of imagery can easily become disconnected from body sensing unless the therapist or Focusing companion gives gentle reminders. Sometimes, however, if there is a great deal of trauma underlying the imagery, it may not be possible for someone to sense it in the body directly. In this case the images can allow whatever is there to be known in a safe and indirect way. In time there may be more connection with the body, but this cannot be hurried. Equally for some people access to bodily feeling, though difficult, may be safer than leaving behind literal reality and venturing into imagination. In all the time that I worked with one particular client she hardly ever brought dreams, but when she did it was as though she had stepped into another dimension. It is also interesting that at one point I found myself creating a fairy tale about her situation. I did not share it with her but it seemed to help the work move on.
In working with my own early trauma I have found Focusing with imagery safe and profound. I have then been able to bring the images back into my own therapy and explore them in other ways. I do not, of course, set out to create images, but when they occur they often enable me to be in Presence with feelings that might otherwise seem too terrible to bear. In Appendix ii I quote a description of my own process. Through this intense but suprisingly joyful exploration I have become much more able to appreciate not only the safety of working imaginally, but its richness and fluidity. It is not something that I would or could impose on clients, but I would try to support clients to work in this way if they were drawn to it. Although it is not completely free from the sense of self, the attachment to what is there as ‘me’ and ‘mine’ can be looser than when working with more literal material. Watching how ‘it’ unfolds almost independently of the conscious self is similar to some of Jung’s descriptions of active imagination[21]. Holding the session, I can enter deeply into the client’s imaginative world. In psychotherapy there is the opportunity to share in a joint process of discovery and exploration, whether there is conscious understanding or not. This engagement with the unknown, the not clearly understood, even the incomprehensible, perhaps also echoes Jung’s description of the nigredo in The Psychology of the Transference[22], where both therapist and client are alchemically bathed in dark material before emerging into the light. I have found that clients who are attracted to working in this way often drop naturally into a Focusing state, and sometimes need to be reminded to engage in the interpersonal as well as the intra-personal relationship.
The imagery that arises may be archetypal in nature, and can be so without needing to be interpreted according to a particular schema. In Focusing such images and characters abound - monsters, witches, kindly helpers, lost children – but they arise from within and can change in the moment into something more personal and idiosyncratic their meaning does not depend on received interpretation. It is possible, however, to use Focusing with established archetypal symbols and, working from the outside in rather than the inside out, sense a bodily response to them from which deeper exploration can arise. When working with an external medium like drawing or sandplay continued sensing into the body can enhance the significance of the finished piece.
With the imaginal in psychotherapy there may be scope to explore through story-telling, dream images, drawing or, if the resources are available, sandplay. I do not at the moment have sandplay materials for my work with individual clients, but in workshops I have found it conducive to seeing – both literally and metaphorically – the larger and less ego-bound picture. Within a psychotherapy session, if a client is engaged in an imaginative exploration the therapist can gently hold and follow the process, sensing when it is right for the client to engage with it inwardly, when reflection or pointers towards bodily sensing are needed, and when the journey can be shared more explicitly in the relationship, perhaps bringing in the therapist’s own response when appropriate. What is important is to respect the client’s limits, whether in bodily sensing or in what can be expressed. I have continued to find Focusing extremely helpful with this.
In the examples below I have concentrated on the ways in which I use Focusing and the felt sense and have possibly down-played some of the other aspects of my work as a Core Process psychotherapist. Although Focusing can be an extremely important and transformative part of the work, I am very much aware that it is only a part. Despite Gendlin’s research I have found that clients who can contact the felt sense – in whatever way – are not the only ones to benefit from psychotherapy, and that clients who can work deeply with the felt sense may still struggle greatly with relationship and the external world. For some clients, awareness of themselves as an individuated being may be so little developed that the idea of sensing inside for feelings is practically meaningless. Nevertheless the client can still be held in the larger space and met at his own level, even if he doesn’t know what he wants or why he is there or whether it is doing him any good at all. More comes into play between therapist and client than either consciously knows. With one client I was both holding him in a deeply regressed place – and sharing in it with him – and giving attention to what he overtly brought the practical decisions he felt unable to make.
Another client of mine was extremely reluctant to sense into the body and rarely saw the point of doing so. Questions such as “And how does that feel right now” would usually elicit something like “Well, last week I said to someone…..” . Yet this person was occasionally visited by powerful imagery and could sometimes identify very clearly what he was sensing in his body, even if he didn’t believe it was important. But it was not this that kept him in therapy. Somehow, even though not much seemed to be happening in the sessions on a felt sense or even an emotional level, he began to change. His close relationships improved, he managed his anger better, and he started to remember and write down events from his childhood. What mattered was that he was listened to, accepted, sometimes challenged, but valued for what he was, and that this was communicated through the relationship. Meeting him in his own world of everyday narrative as well as encouraging him to go beyond it, holding the work as spaciously as I could, conveying to him in an ordinary human way that I was interested in him, all these were what facilitated the work and perhaps started to make it safer for him to value what was inside him. Much as I sometimes wanted him to be able to access this more, it was not where the work lay for him at that time.
Although clearly it is not always appropriate, I have encouraged clients to contact the felt sense when it does seem appropriate. With clients for whom felt sensing has been a new or difficult idea, I have sometimes taught the rudiments of Focusing more explicitly and have even lent them Gendlin’s book. On the whole, though, I would tend to use Focusing much less formally in a psychotherapy session unless a client clearly wanted to explore it. My very first client tried Focusing and was interested by it. She borrowed the book from me and kept it with her until the end of her therapy. Over time she gradually became able to go more deeply into body sensations and the painful feelings they evoked. I worked with her for more than two years and it seemed that she would continue to explore in this way, as it had become important to her. She carried a great deal of shock from early and current abusive experiences, and at the beginning any attempt to sense into her body evoked only blankness. Eventually she became able to recognise this blankness as a feeling. Slowly, and with a great deal of patient holding, she began to enjoy recognising what was there and to use the felt sense as more of a resource. The total time spent with it in any session might be as little as five minutes, but it was clear that these five minutes were a valuable part of the therapeutic process. Equally important was my ability to be with and accept whatever she brought, at whatever level she was able to bring it.
Clients have distinctive ways of accessing or not accessing the felt sense in a psychotherapy session. The first client I mentioned was nowhere near ready to do it; for the client above it was hard to contact initially but she continued to work with it; another client could access it without difficulty but often got lost or ‘merged’ in it; other people may be highly sensitive to body process but find it hard to make the emotional connections, or may work intensely with the felt sense in order to avoid the here-and-now relationship. I can recognise most of these tendencies in different aspects of my own therapy.
One client took to Focusing easily and naturally. She had no background of psychological understanding and came to me with seemingly inexplicable anxiety and depression. She said she had had a happy childhood, she had good relationships with friends and family and she was successful in her job, though the threat of redundancy loomed over her. As we worked together, however, other areas of her life came into view. She was in an unsatisfactory relationship, she felt she was living more for other people than herself, and she had experienced trauma in childhood. Her encounter with the felt sense was initially scary, though also exciting – in one session feelings of anxiety turned into brilliant butterflies – and she could welcome her experiences with interest. In the course of the therapy she became more able to tolerate difficult feelings without immediately shielding herself from them. She also became much more aware of what she wanted and needed for herself, even if it did not meet other people’s expectations. She would often use “going inside” as a means of reflection between sessions, and during sessions was able to drop into a deeper level of sensing, sometimes coming up with images or ideas that surprised her. Although there was a definite point in her process beyond which she chose not to go, I felt that for her too accessing the felt sense was something that would continue to be useful. Much of her therapy was about discovering herself as a being distinct from others, and in this the ‘insideness’ of Focusing and the space and attention of the therapeutic relationship were both important. Without the holding of the relationship she would not have felt safe enough to access the felt sense.
In these examples some brief teaching and appropriate reminders were all that was required. In other cases I have been less certain whether and how to work with Focusing in the psychotherapy session, and have managed it much less skilfully. For me the main questions, which I am still exploring, are how much and when to use reflection as it is used in a Focusing session, and when to use more complex interventions such as the work with not-wanting described above. If someone is dipping in and out of the felt sense, rather than giving it steady attention, verbal reflection can easily become intrusive. If, on the other hand, there is insufficient verbal contact while the client is sensing something painful, this can reinforce the feeling of pain and isolation. I am thinking particularly of a session with one client when I first taught him the elements of Focusing. This client worked with me for about a year altogether. He had had difficulties with addiction and his background was one of physical abuse and lack of recognition. When he first came into therapy the depth of his existential pain was palpable. Despite vigorous intellectual defences he had no difficulty sensing into the body when I suggested he tried it. He sat in silence for some time and then at the end told me how abandoned he had felt. This was one of his deepest and most frequent feelings and he recognised it as such, but I can also see that by not making it clear enough to him that he could verbalise his feelings while going through the process, I could have been reinforcing the sense of abandonment. While he sat I tried to remain as present and spacious as I could and I hope that something of this was conveyed, but here was an instance where verbal communication and reflection might have held the process better.
With the client who tended to become ‘merged’, I more than once tried to use Focusing interventions in a situation where she felt completely stuck. There were many strands to the dilemma, some of them paradoxical – fear of not meeting others’ expectations; fear of becoming dysfunctional like one of her parents; fear of losing this parent’s love by not being dysfunctional; and fear of engaging in the world. When she sensed inside about any of this, it was difficult for her to go beyond what she already knew. She was aware that there was something which did not reveal itself and desperately wanted to know what it was, and she easily became overwhelmed by misery and self-blame. I tried to help her identify the many different parts, and gradually she became more able to accept and acknowledge them. I also kept reflecting back to her in Presence language when she became merged with the critical voices.
For a long time, however, her experience was still that nothing had fundamentally shifted. After one session where we worked most of the time in this way without any apparent change, she came back saying she had had a deep realisation about the need to hold on to her parent. From this she was able to mobilise more resources, but a week or two later she was locked in the conflict again. My response to her desperation was to become ever more ‘helpful’ and try, however subtly, to make something happen. At the same time I saw that for the moment the underlying feelings were not ready to shift, excruciating though this was to her - and to me. I took the work to both psychotherapy supervision and Focusing supervision, and the Focusing suggestion was that I could help her explore more deeply all the what-ifs which covered the hidden feeling. The opportunity to do this did not arise, and in any case I was wary of my own need to leap in with an intervention that would sort it all out. Just as the client kept struggling with the conflict, I sat with the dilemma of how to work with it, and how to use Focusing skilfully. Not long after, the client announced that she had finally made a decision. There had been a real shift which neither of us had expected: what part Focusing played in it I shall never know.
So far I have talked of the felt sense mainly in relation to the client. In Core Process work it is essential that the therapist’s own felt sense constantly comes into play in resonance with and response to the client. This is so much a sine qua non that it is easy to take it for granted, particularly when what one is sensing is congruent with what the client is overtly expressing. In this case there is the possibility of ‘merging’ or becoming too identified with the client’s process, which may not be apparent until afterwards. There is also the possibility that, perhaps because of the client’s process, the therapist may be unconsciously choosing what feels easy and smooth. There may be a little niggle of felt sensing somewhere which may only start to be symbolized in supervision. There are often times when the client’s tone or presentation seem to be at odds with what the therapist is sensing. I can think of many examples from my own practice. Recently I had an initial interview with a client who talked quite cheerfully about a difficult family situation. After a while the client was still seemingly on top of things but I was overtaken by a feeling of extreme sadness which I sensed around the heart. To begin with I thought this was something of my own, and even felt irritated with myself that it was getting in the way. Only as the client continued did their grief and loss, which had already been present in the field between us, become consciously apparent. When I sensed it as something of the client’s there was a ‘felt shift’, a recognition of the fragility which had crept out before it was consciously expressed.
Some time ago I worked with someone who in childhood had experienced appalling neglect and abuse. To start with, the client would talk about it in the most matter-of-fact way while I would find myself close to overwhelm, sometimes during but more often after the session. The client’s trauma was so extreme that I felt almost literally battered by it. At that time I did not use Focusing to the extent that I might now, and I do not know what difference it would have made. It might have given me more space in which to hold the trauma, but it may be that at the time the client needed me to ‘get it’ with full force and become temporarily overwhelmed. It is possible, thought, that I might have been able to bring more Presence to being overwhelmed.
I have found Focusing helpful – or at least a Focusing attitude – at times when it is difficult to be fully present with a client because of some concern of my own. A client may, for instance, be going through a situation that I fear for myself, or something may have happened in my life, or I may just be feeling tired and under the weather. If I can take time to acknowledge what is happening for me, perhaps using some of the Focusing phrases, this gives me more ease and space to come back to the client’s process and more metta for myself. It also helps me to differentiate as far as I can between what seems to be wholly mine, what is possibly mine and the client’s, and what seems to be the client’s, and to recognise the interconnectedness and unknowability of it all. Again this attitude is so much part of the Core Process work that I would not like to label it only as ‘Focusing’, but the techniques of Focusing have been a powerful help in generating compassion for myself.
Core Process supervision sees the therapist’s felt sense as essential in reflecting on the work. “How am I affected by this client” “What happens if I sense into this feeling of the client’s” “What is the quality of this relationship” “What is here in the room now” All these questions open up the enquiry into the joint process and enable what is not yet fully known to be sensed and symbolized, whether or not Focusing techniques are used. Clients are held in the larger space and the work is, sometimes mysteriously, enabled to shift and move on.
A different and interesting use of Focusing in supervision was described to me by a Focusing colleague who is also a psychotherapist, though not Core Process trained. When the work with a particular client felt problematic, she and another colleague would take time to Focus, not necessarily about the work but with whatever arose for them, holding the client in mind at the outset. The belief was that in some way it would be related to the client’s process and helpful to it. Although I have not tried it myself, my colleague reported that using Focusing in this way produced noticeable shifts, both in the client and in the way that the therapist felt able to work. It is a common experience that when a therapist goes through deep personal change there is an interconnected process for the clients, but I would like to explore what effect a Focusing session of this kind can have.
In this dissertation I have tried to explore some of the ways in which Focusing can inform Buddhist practice and Core Process psychotherapy, and the extent to which it seems to me compatible with both. Though it may appear to be little more than a limited set of techniques, my whole experience with it continues to reveal how deep and spacious the process can be. As I hope will be evident, I continue to be inspired and excited by Focusing and feel there is room for more exploration of the interface between it and Core Process psychotherapy. I am quite sure that the practice of Focusing has been of great benefit to me as psychotherapist, and I also know that I have been able to make such good use of the Focusing training because of the depth and spaciousness of the Core Process work.
______________
Ajahn Chah (no date) Bodhinyana. Amaravati Publications.
Ajahn Sucitto, 1996, The Dawn of the Dhamma. Buddhadhamma Publications.
Ajahn Sumedho, 1992, The Four Noble Truths. Amaravati Publications.
Other writings and oral teachings by monks and nuns of the Forest Sangha tradition
Dhammacakkapavattanasutta (Pali Canon), trans. Bhikku Bodhi. Index of Buddhist Sutras/Suttas on the Internet.
Donington, Laura, 1994, Core Process psychotherapy in Innovative Therapy,ed. Jones, David. Open University Press
Gendlin, Eugene The Client’s Client: the Edge of Awareness. Reprint of article (no details given).
Gendlin, Eugene On Emotion in Therapy Article (1990 revision)
Gendlin, Eugene, 1988, Focusing. Bantam.
Gendlin, Eugene, 1996, Focusing-Oriented Psychotherapy. Guilford Press
Goldstein, Joseph, 1976, The Experience of Insight. Shambhala Publications.
Jung, Carl Gustav, 1989, Memories, Dreams, Reflections. Flamingo,.
Jung, Carl Gustav, 1969, The Psychology of the Transference. Princeton University Press.
Klein, Janet, 2001, Interactive Focusing. Self-published.
Kornfield, Jack, 1993, A Path with Heart. Bantam.
Leitch, Lawrence Thoughts on the Radical Acceptance of Everything. Published on Focusing Resources website.
Levine, Stephen, 1979, A Gradual Awakening. Rider.
Madison, Greg, 2002 Focusing as an Adjunct to Supervision Across Modalities. Unpublished paper.
Mahasatipatthanasutta (Pali Canon), trans. Bhikku Bodhi. Index of Buddhist Sutras/Suttas on the Internet.
McGavin, Barbara and Weiser Cornell, Ann, 2002, The Focusing Student’s and Companion’s Manual. Calluna Press.
McGavin, Barbara and Weiser Cornell, Ann, 2003 Treasure Maps to the Soul. Unpublished notes.
McMahon, Ed and Campbell, Pete, 1993, Caring-Feeling-Presence. Extract from Beyond the Myth of Dominance. Sheed & Ward.
Pierrakos, John, 1987, Core Energetics. LifeRhythm.
Webber, Wendy, 1993, Focusing and Core Process Psychotherapy. Core Process dissertation.
Weiser Cornell, Ann, 1994, The Focusing Student’s Manual, Third Edition.Focusing Resources
Weiser Cornell, Ann, 1994, The Radical Acceptance of Everything. Published on the Focusing Resources website.
Weiser Cornell, Ann, 1997, What is the Difference between Focusing and Therapy. Published on the Focusing Resources website.
Welwood, John, 2000, Toward a Psychology of Awakening. Shambhala Publications.
Just now I can begin to say how the process has been: describe the territory, the images, the teetering-on-the-edge feeling which comes sometimes. The edge of death or madness, the terrifying brink of a bottomless dark abyss where something or someone could go on falling for ever into extinction. Something in me is afraid of going into that place but wants to name it. Death, the dragon, the wave: this is death. A terror of death that something in me – which often feels like all of me – finds overwhelming and unstoppable. A grey misty phantom. And there is the death-in-life, the grey emptiness and not-being which used to take me over completely, the nothingness and nowhereness inside the middle of me that I used to call The Gap. I was going to describe it all so neatly first of all there is this, then this, and then it’s like this, but that isn’t what’s happening. I was going to explain – a big part of me needs to do that – but it would be head-talk that the dragon would toss aside in contempt. Who is the dragon The dragon – my dragon – is life-force, inspiration, true language and true knowing, powerful and playful joy. There is also a dark serpent, the dragon’s counterpart, which lives in evil slime and breathes dark smoke. Finally the wave, which is grief, sorrow, the overpowering onrush of feeling, the opening of the flood-gates to let the world in and set free all that has been trapped.
There are other images too, recurring ones that have changed slowly as I have focused with them over time. Boxes that contain treasure or something frightening, or something unknown, or nothing at all. An exile or prisoner, shut away and not daring to come back, and a part that is afraid of allowing the exile back. There are dark caves and whirlpools, pictures too terrible to see, unknown rooms and rooms rediscovered, fears of explosion and devastation, a feeling that the middle of me has been blasted by a bomb. And somewhere in the midst of all this is someone who is experiencing it and learning to be in Presence with it – to recognise that none of this is who ‘I’ am and all of it is there to be known, experienced and acknowledged. As I have become more expert with Focusing I am better able to dip in and out of the difficult places, acknowledge the parts that are afraid of entering them and even find out from the places themselves how they feel and what they need, no matter how extreme they seem to be.
[1] Welwood (2000)
[2] Gendlin (1988)
[3] Letter, 2002
[4] McGavin (2003)
[5] Gendlin (1998), Weiser Cornell, Manual (1994)
[6] Weiser Cornell, Article (1994)
[7] Levine (1980)
[8] McGavin and Weiser Cornell (2003)
[9] Kornfield (1993)
[10] Gendlin (1996)
[11] Gendlin (1988)
[12] Gendlin (1989)
[13] Gendlin (1996)
[14] Weiser Cornell (1997)
[15] Klein (2001)
[16] McMahon and Campbell (1993)
[17] McGavin and Weiser Cornell (2002)
[18] McGavin and Weiser Cornell (2003)
[19] Pierrakos (1987)
[20] McGavin and Weiser Cornell (2002)
[21] Jung (1989)
[22] Jung (1969)
| Home | | Top | | Site map | | Feedback |