2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 3,300 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 6 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

You’re getting verrrry sleeeepy…

Click to visit the new home of my private practice

As many of you know, I’ve expanded my career from being a writer and teacher to include working as a Clinical Hypnotherapist, specializing in Transpersonal Hypnotherapy. (For those who didn’t know, you can get up off the floor now.)

I thought I might answer here a few questions about my new life path that have not been directly asked to me as much as inferred with raised brow or polite huffchuckle.

So, you’re not a writer anymore?
I could not stop being a writer any more than I could stop being a mammal. In fact, my practice includes writing as part of the healing process. My own writing will continue as it has for nearly forty years—agonizingly slowly with flashes of muse-infused brilliance.

Isn’t hypnotherapy that thing where a guy on stage makes you cluck like a chicken?

This is decidedly not what I do.

No. That’s called Stage Hypnosis and it gives Hypnotherapy a bad name. Mainly because those clucking people on stage are either really susceptible to hypnosis, actors, or drunk. Or all three.

Hypnosis is a state of deep relaxation. That’s it. You are always in control, and you can always “snap out of it.” It’s like when you’re meditating and the cat leaps into your lap. You aren’t stranded in the glowing ethereal bliss of nirvana’s outer realms; you jump and toss the cat out of your lap (with loving kindness).

How does it work?
The Hypnotherapist uses words and sometimes music to help you enter into a relaxed state. In that state, the conscious mind—or ego, the watchdog over all we do and think—takes a break from all its hard work. This opens our subconscious mind, the place where our personal memories and habits are stored—to suggestions designed to change or enhance our behavior, depending on what is needed. We do this using imagery and metaphors that are chosen to resonate with you personally. (The craft is a lot like writing, actually. In fact, what is read to you in a session is called a “script.”)

Hang on. Couldn’t a hypnotherapist “suggest” I rob a bank?
That therapist probably wouldn’t get a lot of work. Still, it wouldn’t matter. You cannot be coerced to do anything that doesn’t make sense to you. In other words, because the suggestion to rob a bank is out of character for you, your conscious mind will reject it.

All hypnosis is self-hypnosis. You are always in control.

What many of us don’t realize is that we enter states of hypnosis every day. Because our subconscious mind is the place we store habits and memories, it is called upon much of the time to do its job. You don’t have to remember how to drive or how to peel a banana. Your subconscious remembers. If you’ve ever been daydreaming as you drive to work and remembered to make your exit at the last minute, you were in a state of self-hypnosis. In fact, daydreaming is a form of mild trance, or altered state of consciousness.

Hypnotherapy is like a massage for the mind

Why would someone need Hypnotherapy?
This is the cool part. Many of us have habits we wish to eliminate (smoking, drinking too much, overeating, biting our nails, etc.), fears that debilitate us, or behaviors that are detrimental to our well-being. By accessing the subconscious mind (the place where these habits and traits replay over and over again) and providing alternative suggestions, we can retrain the brain to behave in a more beneficial way.

There are other uses of Hypnotherapy as well. Athletes use Hypnotherapy to improve their game. Artists use Hypnotherapy to break through creative blocks.

Hypnotherapy works for anyone who simply wants to relieve stress and feel refreshed. It’s like a massage for the mind.

Why do you want to make a career of this? And what does “transpersonal” mean, anyway?
Transpersonal Hypnotherapy means working with all of the Self—mind, body, and spirit. That is what draws me to this work the most. There are so many possibilities present for all of us when we quiet the ego and let the deeper self come forth. We spend so much time “in our heads,” totally disconnected from the eternal truth that is in all of us. I love the idea of helping others to hush the frenzied mind and listen to the inner voice, the one that has been present since the beginning of creation.

So, that’s basically it.

I lead a weekly workshop that includes guided meditation as part of each class

If you’re in the mood to read more, there’s a lovely interview on the Noodles on the Wall blog that explains more fully what I’m up to these days. (Warning: This interview will be archived as of April 19, 2012 so scroll down the page if you’re reading it after that date.)

Until next time, happy daydreaming!

New Writing Classes for 2012

WRITE YOUR SELF OPEN: A WEEKLY WRITERS’ GATHERING

Join a community of new and seasoned writers for this revitalizing hour of self-discovery. Create fresh work every session using innovative writing exercises geared to open and honor your deepest self. Writers at all levels are welcome—from the life-long practitioner to those taking first steps on the path. Led by author and educator Rachel Astarte Piccione.

Every Tuesday from 12:00–1:00 p.m. 

Birchwood Center:

85 South Broadway, 2nd Floor – Nyack, NY

$20 per person. Bring a friend and pay $30 for both.

NYACK WRITERS’ WORKSHOP

Nyack’s only ongoing writing workshop is here! Bring a brief piece of writing of any genre to share. Receive thoughtful, constructive feedback designed to help you improve the quality of your work.

Every Tuesday from 1:00–2:00 p.m.

Birchwood Center: 85 South Broadway, 2nd Floor – Nyack, NY

Every Thursday from 2:30-3:30 p.m. (beginning February 2012)

Nyack Yoga @ 42 Main: 42 Main Street – Nyack, NY

$20 per person. Bring a friend and pay $30 for both.

Calling All Writers

I’m very pleased to announce that I’ll be teaching two new classes beginning this month at Lift Nyack Yoga & Wellness Center. Here’s the information. I hope to see you there!

“Write Your Self Open: Weekly Writers’ Gathering”

Join a community of new and seasoned writers for this revitalizing hour of self-discovery. Create fresh work every session using innovative writing exercises designed to open and honor your deepest self. Writers at all levels are welcome—from the life-long practitioner to those taking first steps on the path.

Every Tuesday from 12:00–1:00 p.m., beginning October 18, 2011

(On a break from work? Bring your lunch!)

$20 / $15 with Lift Card

“Journal Journey: Writing The Book of Your Life”

A journal can be your traveling partner, a confidante, your best friend. Learn to get into the practice of keeping a journal, just like meditation. Overcome the fear of not knowing what or how to write. Get tips to keep your practice fresh, new, and ongoing. We will create our own journal as part of the program, and use meditation and exercises to break through writer’s block. Sessions will end with an optional gathering in the space for further relaxation and socializing.

Every third Thursday of the month from 7:30–9 p.m., beginning October 20, 2011

$20 / $15 with Lift Card

Read more here!

Lift Nyack Yoga & Wellness Center

42 Main Street – Nyack, NY 10960

845 512 8546

In Stitches

Busta foot

So, I had a doozy of an accident a few days ago. Five stitches, a tetanus shot, and prescriptions for both antibiotics and Vicodin later,  I’m hobbled and in pain.

Here’s what happened. WARNING: Details and at least one pic below are pretty gruesome.

Thursday night at around 10 p.m., Paul and I were enjoying a pint of Ben & Jerry’s “Willie Nelson’s Peach Cobbler Ice Cream.” Before we inhaled the entire thing, I offered to put it back downstairs in the kitchen (our house was built in 1880; the kitchen is in the basement). Going down to the kitchen involves descending a metal spiral staircase. (You can see what’s coming.) Now, I’ve made this trek a number of times, although

Willie Nelson's Peach Cobbler Ice Cream from B&J's

I loathe the damned thing. In fact, it was a condition of mine upon buying the house that we have it replaced with standard stairs. Apparently no architect in the world can make that happen. So.

Adding to the drama is the fact that the overhead light that illuminates the spiral stairs is broken. (Did I mention our house is old?) I could almost hear the Irony Gods laughing as I headed downstairs, tried the dead light switch for the eleventyteenth time, and called to Paul, “We really ought to get this thing fixed,” happily licking the remaining peach ice cream from the spoon.

Now, I should also point out that because I’m used to descending the metal stairs in the dark, I am particularly careful to concentrate on when the last step is coming up. I’ve certainly anticipated the end of the staircase one step too soon and made a none-too-graceful leap onto the rug below. Well, that’s exactly what happened this time, but instead of making a leap, I brought my right heel down along the edge of the bottom rung.

The Evil Staircase

My first reaction was a deep inhalation through my teeth and the thoughts: Damn, that stings. I can’t believe I did that. AGAIN. This smarts.

When I reached the kitchen and turned on the light to asses the damage, I was stunned to find not the nasty abrasion I expected, but a smiley face torn into the back of my heel, just below the Achilles tendon. The skin had separated, leaving a jagged semi-circle of flesh just kind of sitting there like a piece of mozzarella on a tomato slice.

I sat down and called upstairs, “Paul? I need some assistance.”

Duh.

After managing to wrap up the mess, we began the decision-making. Thing is, I don’t do hospitals. But I knew I needed to go to the hospital. The only problem was that our dear son was sleeping away upstairs. No way I was going to wake him up. (Around here, I started going into shock and feeling all woozy.) So, we went back up The Evil Staircase and into the living room.

Reading Albert Brooks as they prep for my suturing

Since we had no bandages in the house, he had to drive all the way to New City for the only 24-hour drug store in the area. (Downside of having moved from the city.)

He returned with butterfly bandages, I pulled my shit together (literally and figuratively), and we went to bed.

In the morning, we took a family trip to Nyack Hospital. I brought my book to read (Albert Brooks’s new novel, Twenty-thirty). I was cared for by a rotating succession of nurses, doctors, interns, and attendings.

In the end, I got five stitches in my ankle instead of the ten they would have put in had I come to the hospital promptly. Now there was an infection risk. I’ll also have a nasty scar, one that will most likely look like The Joker’s smile. (I know a couple hundred teenage boys who would pay to have that…)

So, pray for no infection, dear readers. I’ll pray for a new staircase and that the docs will give me a refill on the Vicodin. If they won’t, I’m saving those little beauties for my birthday.

Iodine bath