An Introduction
to
Hypnosis & Hypnotherapy
by Damian Hamill
Certified Hypnotherapist, Master Practitioner
& Trainer of NLP
Director of Training for Hypnotic Outcomes Ltd
This eBook is published by Hypnotic Outcomes Ltd,
220 Barry Road, East Dulwich,
London SE22 0JS
United Kingdom
© Damian Hamill
Copyright 2012 Damian Hamill,
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0951-1
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Introduction - Waiting for the Miracle
“There were lots of invitations, I know you sent me some,
But I’ve been waiting for the miracle,
For the miracle to come.”
- Waiting For the Miracle, Leonard Cohen
In 1985, at the Evolution of Psychotherapy Conference in Arizona, the well-known therapist Rollo May estimated that there are over 300 distinct forms of psychotherapy currently being practiced (Zeig, 1987, p.212). If you think about it for a moment, this variety is bewildering. For each of these forms there is likely to be a theoretical underpinning, the satisfaction of which is necessary for that therapy to be viewed as having been ‘successful’ in its own terms. Even allowing for the probability that some of these therapies will share common elements of theory, this still leaves a staggering number of views on how people grow, function, develop problems; and what is necessary to resolve these problems.
Many of these therapies grew from early psychoanalytical models of human behaviour and bear their clear imprint. Even those that have developed a clear and unique identity of their own, such as Gestalt or Reichian therapy for example, were pioneered by disenchanted (or renegade, depending on your position) psychoanalysts - Fritz Perls and Wilhelm Reich, respectively. Despite the development of psychotherapy and its distancing in many cases from its psychoanalytical origins, there are several traits of the early psychoanalytical theorists that seem still to permeate many forms of therapy. The first of these is the insistence that the therapeutic model to which the therapist adheres is the only ‘correct’ model and that any other theories are necessarily ‘wrong’. The second is that therapeutic progress – human change - is a slow, laborious and often painful process.
The first of these traits brings with it a number of issues. If the adherents to a particular form of therapy believe that all other forms of therapy are ‘wrong’, then any change that these other therapies produce will be viewed as meaningless, transient or unsatisfactory in some other way. Furthermore, any change that a client experiences within the therapy of choice may also be viewed as meaningless, transient or unsatisfactory unless it fully adheres to and can be explained by the theoretical underpinnings of that therapy. Any change the client experiences that does not meet these criteria is often viewed as being temporary, superficial or, to borrow a psychoanalytical term, a ‘flight to health’. In considering the tendency of therapists to take this sort of position it is easy to come to the conclusion that the tail is wagging the dog – that the preservation of a theory of change blinds its theorists to evidence of change that does not fit the theory. Famous therapist and theoretician of change processes, the late Paul Watzlawick (Zeig, 1987, p.92), noted that a belief in possessing an ultimate truth about human affairs may encourage the holder to dismiss any evidence other than that which substantiates the ‘ultimate truth’ held. He characterised such ‘confirmatory bias’ as representing an apparent attitude that preserving a theory is more valuable than helping a client.
The situation outlined above inevitably raises the question of what exactly therapy seeks to achieve. Does a therapeutic encounter exist solely to provide ongoing confirmation of the therapist’s particular theoretical orientation, allowing the therapist to dismiss any developments that do not ‘fit’ this orientation; or is the goal of therapy to produce change within the client, in the direction that he or she wishes?
It is reassuring to realise, however, that many experienced psychotherapists across treatment modalities that were historically considered incompatible have moved away from such limiting perspectives. Rather than engaging in pointless ‘turf wars’ or unproductive arguments over whose therapy is the ‘best’ therapy, such practitioners are oriented more towards looking for commonalities between psychotherapies - those points where maps meet, intersect and overlap. These can be the most fertile grounds for collaboration, mutual sharing of experience and generation of new pathways of growth and development. Pamela Gawler-Wright (2009) has developed this collaborative framework within the context of Contemporary Psychotherapy and observes:
“Whenever we speak of psychotherapy we have to ask "which psychotherapy?" as the numerous and divergent modules of theory and practice are confusing even to the professional practitioner. The last two decades has seen a greater integration of various denominations of psychotherapy, resulting in a "post-schoolist" movement where positive similarities are embraced more than negative differences are fought over.”
Those who take this perspective, whatever their original clinical orientation (and however forbidding its own therapeutic lexicon may be to others), have come to realise that different therapeutic maps and models are merely differing metaphors describing common experience. The hazard into which the profession of psychotherapy drifted over decades was the reification of such metaphors, as if the elements of any particular metaphorical explanation really existed in tangible form and therefore excluded the possible existence of any other explanation.
The respected psychotherapist, Steve Lankton (1980, p.186), elucidated the metaphorical, rather than literal, nature of psychotherapeutic models and the perils of failing to recognise this distinction when he stated:
“Each school of psychotherapy is a metaphor designed to help expand the limitations of its client’s personal metaphors…Each has its own set of tools, conceptual labels, presuppositions and techniques. A lot of them have the same stated goals and intentions and yet are considered rival theories by their respective proponents. As we shall discover, though the content of these stories of personality may differ radically, the processes by which they effect change in their clients are formally identical.”
When it comes to filtering for similarities rather than differences, I believe that a common thread running through many of the different psychotherapies is the use of hypnosis and altered states. Once the essential characteristics and phenomena of hypnosis are recognised and understood, its de facto presence can often be detected in psychotherapeutic encounters where the word is not even part of the vocabulary, let alone regularly uttered. This is also despite the fact that some therapists who undoubtedly indirectly use trance in their practices would have an apoplectic fit if this were pointed out to them. I am reminded of a series of conversations I had with a therapist who practiced a form of humanistic psychotherapy, and who never missed the opportunity to decry hypnosis for various reasons which showed she had a fundamental misunderstanding of its nature. Due to the vehemence with which she held these views and my own desire at the time for an easy life, I did not avail myself of the opportunity to correct her misunderstanding. Some time later, however, she described working with a client using what she would have described as a creative visualisation method yet which I instantly recognised as being blatantly hypnotic in its structure, delivery and function. Had