I once had a girlfriend in my late teens named Marlyce Greco. She was a starstruck fan of Arthur Lee and Love, and so one summer Saturday night we went to see him and the band at the Whiskey a Go-Go on Sunset Strip in Hollywood. Around midnight, after we came over Mullholland and cruised down into the Valley on my Triumph motorcycle, a woman who’d had too much to drink, made a sudden left turn in front of us just as we entered the intersection at Coldwater Canyon and Moorpark. We broadsided her at 40 miles an hour, sending Marlyce and I flying over the top of her station wagon and out into the traffic trying to avoid us.
Miraculously neither of us ended up seriously hurt. In the aftermath, we were both able to stand on the street corner and speak semi-coherently to people who came to our aid. Except for one problem – I couldn’t stop shaking. Forty-plus years later, I’ve come to learn I was having a body and brain-stabilizing, Acute Stress Reaction.
The “Oh Shoot” Moment
In the moment when I realized we were going to smash into that station wagon, all my major muscles tensed. All thinking ceased, my breathing stopped and my whole body was flooded with adrenaline and cortisol. From studies of animals in the wild by ethologists like Robert Sapolsky and Peter Levine, we know that the shaking afterwards was my nervous system’s way of trying to move those powerful glucocorticoids out of my body and brain in order to keep them from doing neurological harm. Instead of loading me into an ambulance and taking me to the UCLA Medical Center and exposing me to the horrendous pain and suffering that abounds in any inner city Emergency Room on a Saturday night, probably better would have been to trot or walk me around the block a few times. It is lack of physical movement – the freeze response – that seems to play a significant role in traumatic experiences becoming intrusively fixed in long term memory.
Walk it Off, Shake it Off, Dance it Off
When my daughter was small, I noticed that whenever she fell or scraped her knee, her first response would be to look to me for a reaction. If I was cool and simply picked her up, brushed her off and walked her around, she was over the incident quite rapidly. My calm became her calm. I’m pretty convinced, and research from folks like Bessel van der Kolk, Bob Scaer and Pat Ogden seem to confirm that anything we do that helps us mitigate the Freeze Response in the wake of spills and trauma, provides great neurological benefits – physical movement in the wake of overwhelming experiences seems to keep us from forming “Dissociation Capsules,” those easily-acquired neurological snarl-jams that work to frequently float us away from the stress of the present moment.
The need for, and the power of physical movement, even “triumphant action” as a potential healing aid in the wake of traumatic experiences, is important to realize for parents and other caregivers in the world, especially those parts of the world where exploding IEDs and other traumatic assaults are a regular, unpredictable way of life. Anything we can do to support the physical and mental health of any one of us is invariably good for all of us.
Challenging Conversations
Related to physically traumatic experiences are the neurologically similar experience of difficult conversations – those emotionally-laden, adrenaline-fueled discussions we find ourselves frequently faced with involving family members, friends and creative colleagues. Roger Fisher, Bruce Patton, Douglas Stone and Sheila Heen – members of the Harvard Negotiation Project – have written a book on just this topic. They present a series of flexible guidelines for deliberately and consciously engaging in Difficult Conversations.
They suggest breaking difficult discussions into three parts: the story part – what happened; the feeling part – how we feel about what happened; and the Third Story – the result that often emerges from deep listening and mutually inclusive, beneficial problem-solving. Missing from their guidelines is my feeling that these conversations should rarely be engaged in sitting down. Such conversations jazz up our neurobiology and then leave us with nowhere to go with all that vibrating energy. Moving that energy through our system in my experience is best accomplished by not taking such encounters sitting down. And this is probably a good practice for the rest of our lives as well.

There’s a wonderful Zen directive that lives in my long-ago memory as something like this: “Do not think bad thoughts. But if you do think bad thoughts, do not speak them. But if you do speak them, do your best to correct any damage they may have done.” We don’t have to be perfect in this practice. We only have to be willing to attend closely to the intent of the words we put out into the world and work on repairing any damage they may have do. With practice (about 10000 hours worth), the things we do think and the things we do
It’s interesting to explore what goes on internally when I find myself reacting in this way. At the root of much of my reactivity often lies … fear. Fear that politicians are going to make the mess they’ve already made, worse. Fear that Wall Street – and specifically the big banks – are going to ruin any possible chance that I might have for a happy financial retirement. Fear that what lies ahead for me is mostly greater and greater pain, anxiety and suffering until I finally give up and die. The irony is not lost on me: while I’m so busy being driven by all of this Future-fear, I’m not very present to the glorious life around me in the moment. I blame it on my brain’s inability to easily manage anxiety, which of course, is simply more finger-pointing.
In my mind, kvetching is a conditioned response left over from childhood. I whined as a kid because whining preceded words. Kvetching also seems closely related to the
Two things have stayed with me from that internship at The Country Place: first, there was very little difference that I could discern between the patients and the staff. And in fact, as I later learned, when patients got better, many elected to become staff. The second thing that has stayed with me: The beauty of the place itself seemed to work an active, healing magic. In less than a year, my brain became completely reorganized and my soul fully restored such that I could resume pursuing the graduate degree I had unexpectedly interrupted by taking my own psychiatric time out.

Synthetic biologists have developed methods for programming living cells similar to the way a computer scientist programs a computer. Using that knowledge, they have created a new form of life – an “app” named “
What does this mean exactly? Well, might it mean that something essential that could have happened for more than nine out of ten Americans when they were kids, didn’t? Something that should have, or could have made a significant difference later on in their adult lives?
* Never smoked or former smoker;
To the extent that a mother’s kiss, a guru’s presence and an effective placebo are each able to calm our fears and dissipate unneeded adrenaline and cortisol, my suspicion is that they set us up to be able to touch in to the default organizing energy, this energy that we mostly know as love. I suspect it is actually this energy which has the real power to heal, and that it has little to do with the size, color, cost or the place where a sugar pill is delivered. But I’m guessing it’s going to be awhile before Big Pharma begins designing drug studies to control for the organizing energy of Love Potion # 9. There is, after all, ready, but not necessarily easy access to it for most of us.
When my daughter Amanda was in middle school, I once offered her $10 to deliberately get a single word wrong on a spelling test. She wouldn’t do it. The peer pressure and the potential for subsequent humiliation stressed her too much. I’ve written about
Running parallel with the discomfort that making mistakes causes, is the inability for many of today’s kids to emotionally engage and effectively self-regulate in the face of conflict. The “Whatever Generation” turn out to be consummate conflict-avoiders. At the same time, increasing 
But counterfactual thinking, is something I’m not very good at when my system is flooded with glucocorticoids. Few of us are. I tend to hold a narrow focus and creativity is nowhere to be found. In addition, at times when I see things out in the world that disturb me, there’s little awareness in the moment that perhaps it’s my own neuro-cardio physiology that needs adjusting. I need to get myself relocated to different environments, inside and outside.
