Compassionate Inquiry – an exercise

Last week we concluded the book review of ‘The Myth of Normal’ with Part 5.
In it we also mentioned an exercise in ‘compassionate inquiry’. We would like to take a closer look at this.

The Dutch saying goes that ‘voorkomen’ (prevention) is better than ‘genezen’ (curation). However, there is another approach that precedes prevention: amplition. The word ‘amplition’ comes from the Latin verb ‘amplire’, which means ‘to magnify’, ‘to increase’. Amplition is about giving more attention to what gives you strength and keeps you healthy. It is a very salutogenetic approach: you look at the question of what causes health (saluto-genesis). That’s a different approach than being concerned with what you should avoid in order not to get sick.

An important element of your daily well-being is meaningfulness: you can be physically as healthy as possible and have so many material things around you… when life seems meaningless and you feel no purpose or importance in the things you do, then your well-being will drastically decrease. Meaningfulness is also sometimes referred to by the Japanese term ‘ikigai’, that which gets you out of bed, your ‘raison d’être’, that which makes you happy and satisfied, that which gives meaning to your existence. Therefore, it is valuable to keep a finger on the pulse of your authenticity in this, whether you know and pursue your ikigai, or whether you let yourself be kept away from it for all kinds of reasons. (We will shortly review a book on ikigai soon.)

If you notice that you do not experience enough meaningfulness, you can talk yourself down: “Done nothing useful again, didn’t work hard enough again, what a sucker I am, why can’t I get it done, I can do this no, I’m too stupid/lazy/incompetent for it, this will never work”… and whatever else you can come up with. Many of us have grown up with that voice in our heads of first someone else (often a parent or teacher or boss), which later passes silently into our own ‘inner critic’, the voice that constantly judges your actions negatively – condemns them, an ‘intruder’. With this approach you are not being very kind to yourself. It is probably not the way you would talk to a dear friend. Can that be done differently…? Can you learn to handle that in a more compassionate way? Yes, that is possible!

Chapter 28 of The Myth of Normal provides you with a compassionate inquiry exercise that you can do all by yourself. You don’t need a therapist or expert for it. You can get started with it on your own, with a frequency that suits you and that you may slowly increase if you notice that the exercise is doing you good. How does it work?
You sit down regularly, at least once a week but preferably more often, to answer a number of questions honestly to yourself while writing. These questions are the following six:

Question 1: In my life’s important areas, what am I, against my true wish, not saying no to?

Question 2: How does my inability to say no impact my life?

Question 3: What bodily signals have I been overlooking? What symptoms have I been ignoring that could be warning signs, were I to pay conscious attention?

Question 4: What is the hidden story behind my inability to say no?

Question 5: Where did I learn these stories?

Question 6: Where have I ignored or denied the “yes” that wanted to be said?

 

Ad 1
Where did you feel a no, but did you hold it in or did you say yes, although you did not support it? With whom and where is it difficult to say no? And if you do say no, can you feel comfortable, determined, guilt-free? Do you blame yourself afterwards for your no? What price do you pay for your yes, if you wanted to express a no?

Ad 2
An unspoken, but desired no, can have all kinds of consequences: physical (back problems, insomnia, stomach ache, fatigue, headaches and more), emotional (sadness, fear, boredom, loss of joie de vivre and sense of humour) and relational (resentment towards the other, estrangement from loved ones, aloofness, lack of libido).

Ad 3
The aforementioned physical effects are important to observe. After all, when stress arises in your body, you become more susceptible to illness and chronic social and health problems. The body often tells clearly what it likes and what it doesn’t like, but we often forget or are afraid to listen to it and take the signals seriously. Understandable: their meaning can be intense.

Ad 4
Behind your unspoken no there are often different beliefs, which together form a story that you tell yourself over and over again to explain, justify, and rationalise your choices. Your choices and stories therefore seem ‘normal’ and true. They are also almost always consistent with your life experiences, but they deserve a closer look.

Ad 5
Our self-image usually forms early in life under the influence of how our closest attachment figures interact with and respond to us. We are not born with a negative self-image, so to speak. We often take things personally when they are not. This question invites you to honestly examine where your story has to be maintained and where it is allowed to change.

Ad 6
When you do not dare to show your authenticity, you probably do not say no to certain things, even though they do not suit you. Conversely, you may not say yes to what would feed your happiness in life. Maybe you are afraid of reactions from your environment. Maybe you think you’re not worthy of certain things. Maybe there are beliefs that make you think you shouldn’t do something. However, our ‘ikigai’, our purpose for meaning, wants to be expressed. When it just slumbers inside, it either kills our creativity or explodes in a very clumsy way. Expressing it, putting your goals into the world, saying yes to them, can have a strong healing effect on your well-being and health.

It is a simple yet complex exercise, if only because it demands some discipline: it requires you to make time for it on a regular basis. Above all, it asks that you be honest and that you literally dare to face what you have to say to yourself. You write, you give words to your feelings, you write down what you have observed in your body in the past week or the past few days. You may see certain themes come up again and again and with others you can be relieved to see that you are making progress, that you are taking yourself seriously, that it makes your body happy.
I have begun; I have chosen a nice, inviting booklet in which I have written down the six questions on the first page as a reminder. I experience writing from compassion as a pleasant process throughout the week. It makes me more aware and that is the beginning of all forms of change, including those on the way to more peace and well-being in your life. In other words… highly recommended!

Book review of ‘The Myth of Normal’, Part 5 (final)

Last week, we posted Part 4 in this blog series and this week we finish the sequence by sharing our thoughts on the fifth part of the book, called ‘Pathways to Wholeness’. This part of the book is full of beautiful personal stories of healing. Again, Gabor does not elude his own difficulties in walking the healing path and from his explicit vulnerability, we can all gain courage: even when you have a lot of knowledge in your head, it can be quite a challenge to first hear and then follow the call of your heart.

Chapter 25 speaks about ‘healing’, how it is not a destination, but a direction, aimed ad “self-retrieval”, finding back the lost connections to ourselves. The authors make an important distinction between ‘being healed’ and ‘being cured’. If we are being cured, our physical issues have been dealt with and the disease is gone, whereas being healed is much more about finding wholeness and being at peace with everything inside us, our qualities, our possibilities, and “the truth of our lives” (p. 362, 363). Sometimes we ‘suffer ourselves into healing’, meaning that we first need serious setbacks before feeling the urgency of finding a way out of the darkness and step back into the light. In other instances, the healing process comes as a calling. Some people may feel that healing is attainable for everyone, except themselves, which only shows how deep the pain can be etched into your being.
Then again: “Anyone, no matter their history, can begin to hear wholeness beckoning, whether in a shout or whisper, and resolve to move in its direction. With the heart as a guide and the mind as a willing and curious partner, we follow whatever path most resonates with that call” (p. 373).

Chapter 26 deals with a number of healing principles, among which are four important qualities:
1. Authenticity: we fully accept ourselves and learn to notice when we stray from it.
2. Agency: we exercise “response ability” (p. 377), have choice and take control of our own healing.
3. Anger: we are able to feel and express healthy anger as “a boundary defense” to protect our integrity and equilibrium (p. 378, 379), and do not suppress or judge, nor nourish it.
4. Acceptance: we recognise that right now, things can only be as they are and “we endeavour to just be with it” (p. 381), which is very different from tolerating the untolerable (e.g injustice).

The chapter continues with five forms of compassion: human compassion, compassion of curiosity and understanding, of recognition, of truth, and of possibility, all with their own characteristics and foci. It also contains a quote from A.H. Almaas, often cited by Gabor: “Only when compassion is present, do people allow themselves to see the truth.” This is a very beautiful citation; it somehow invites all of us to listen with compassion, because the other person will have a hard time diving into their deepest insecurities and life questions, if we as a listener do not have compassion for whatever it is they might come up with.

Chapter 27 broaches a tough topic: disease as teacher, as an opportunity for learning and growth. Some people tell that their disease felt as a wake-up call: “Symptoms and illness are the body’s way of letting us know when we have strayed from that [authentic] core” (p. 393). Several cases of serious disease are discussed and the ways people dealt with them. Often, people somehow sensed that their ‘dis-ease’ was a factor in the genesis of their disease, but in general, both many healthcare providers and many lay people may find this a difficult topic to deal with. This chapter tells how some people are not cured, but healed nevertheless, dissolving the fragmentation felt earlier in their lives.

Chapter 28 provides a compassionate inquiry exercise, a way to learn an attitude of compassionately inquiring about yourself and the choices you make in life. Do they support your authenticity or do they stimulate self-hatred and pushing the body and its physiology across unhealthy boundaries? The exercise consists of answering six questions on a very regular, preferably daily basis. Part of the exercise, in fact, is the discipline of doing it regularly. I read this exercise a while ago and felt like starting, but initially postponed doing so, despite my conviction that it would, indeed, be truly helpful. It is about the stories we believe in and how they are “neither objective nor accurate, [but] always internally consistent with our behavior and our experience” (p. 418). These stories are learned very early in life and may stifle our authentic expression. The creativity in us must, however, be able to come out, “otherwise we may explode at the wrong places or become hopelessly hemmed in by frustrations” (p. 421).

Chapter 29 explains how we might work through these self-limiting stories that make us believe we are not enough. To achieve this, five processes are described: relabel, reattribute, refocus, revalue, and re-create. To do this may require self-discipline, courage, and determination. The authors see much potential in them, however: “The more you relabel, reattribute, refocus, and revalue, the freer you will be to re-create”, both in the sense of ‘creating anew’ and of ‘playfully relax’ (p. 429).

Chapter 30 acknowledges the fact that our healing journey will not always be smooth. Moving away from “I’m unworthy” and “I am defective” is hard, because convictions like these are stored in the body’s neurophysiology. This is where the approach of unhealthy beliefs and practices deserves a compassionate inquiry: “The question thus shifts from ‘How do I get rid of this?’ to ‘What is this for? Why is this here?’ (…,) to turn these [aspects] from foes to friends”, once we realise that they are there for a reason (p. 431). They helped us through the hard times and deserve our compassion. The whole chapter deals with all kinds of obstacles to healing and about the importance of becoming aware of them. Unhealthy beliefs arose for the purpose of harm reduction in the first place, despite the harm they may cause later on, when something triggers us (a very descriptive word for what truly happens).

Chapter 31 is a powerful, gripping story of Gabor’s personal experience with the use of psychedelics, and also about him always working to help others in their healing, but deep down inside believing that he himself was “beyond all hope of healing” (p. 371, Chapter 25) – an amazing story.

Chapter 32 elaborates on this experience of spirituality and what it taught him, part of which is the fact that, again, psychedelics show the mindbody unity: “what happens to the body reflects what is happening in the mind and the spirit” (p. 474). This spirit, which is aeons old, has mythical proportions and the authors state that being more open to myth, more in the sense of ‘mystical’, “as a fount of knowledge, a portal to spirit, and one of the fundaments of any healthy culture” would do our societies really well (p. 478).

Chapter 33, the last one, leaves us with a number of suggestions for how to create trauma-conscious societies, in medicine and the law as well as in education, so that “the adult community [can] hold space for the development of the young” (p. 491). This chapter is filled with intriguing thoughts and comments about the “malignant normality” of present practices and convictions and the way young people pay the price for this “toxic culture” (p. 495), created and maintained by “the barbarians of civilization”. In such a setting, “it is often individuals who defy conventional normality who are the healthy ones” (p. 496). This, once over, requires authenticity, the strength to stay true to one’s inner truths and to a purpose bigger than ourselves. The challenge the book ends with is to wake up and become aware of what has to be done: “Shedding toxic myths of disconnection from ourselves, from one another, and from the planet, we can bring what is normal and what is natural, bit by bit, closer together” (p. 497).

Quite a journey it was, reading this 500 page book from cover to cover. What a wealth of wisdom we have encountered in it! The authors masterfully and beautifully incorporate a plethora of topics in order to illustrate what needs to change if we truly aim to prevent and heal trauma and illness. It succeeds in offering a genuinely holistic approach and shows beyond any doubt that depoliticization of health does no justice to the influence of the biopsychosocial context we all grow up in. As much as we may try, we cannot be healthy on our own, walled off from those around us. Their joy and their pain are contagious to our neurophysiology, our interpersonal biology. That means that the more we succeed in nurturing healthy connection to ourselves and others, the more healed and healing we can become. “It is our most daunting challenge and greatest possibility.”

Book review of ‘The Myth of Normal’, Part 4

Last week, we shared the blog about Part III of ‘The Myth of Normal’; this week, we turn to Part IV, called ‘The Toxicities of Our Culture’.

Chapter 19 dives straight into the biopsychosocial aspect of who we are as human beings: we are enormously influenced by our context and suffer more the bigger the inequalities are, as they cause such a lot of stress. We can depoliticise health and make it an individual responsibility, but the fact of the matter is that political decisions have a huge impact on personal life circumstances and thus also on the stresses people have to deal with in relation to income (in)security, lack of control over their own lives, and dependence on jobs that bring no fulfilment only to pay (part of) the bills. Combined with stress physiology, these circumstances go “from society to cell” (p. 278), from public routines and institutions to personal lives and bodies. Capitalism, with all its pollution and unemployment, has arrived at a point “where everything is acceptable and no one is accountable” (p. 283).
The chapter ends with a definition of ‘alienation’ that deserves a full quote, despite its length, as it also has core characteristics of trauma: “It is the cry of men who feel themselves the victims of blind economic forces beyond their control. It’s the frustration of ordinary people excluded from the processes of decision-making. The feeling of despair and hopelessness that pervades people who feel with justification that they have no real say in shaping or determining their own destinies” (p. 285). What if we look at this definition from the perspective of children…?

Chapter 20 is about the impact of social disconnection and the illness that can but ensue because of the loneliness, stress, and immune suppression caused by it: truly “a public health crisis” (p. 293). The “social dislocation”, people finding “themselves cut off from autonomy, relatedness, trust, and meaning (…) is a potent source of mental dysfunction, despair, addictions, and physical illness” (p. 289). Seeing that humans are innately meaning-making creatures, a life with no meaning is bound to cause problems. Competition, as a driving societal force, causes us to strongly rely on how we perform in comparison to others, instead of on our authenticity. Because of our “need for belonging” (p. 292), our sense of feeling seen and heard and valued thus becomes highly conditional and fragile.

Chapter 21, again, contains a lot of societal criticism, this time about “sociopathy as a strategy”, as the chapter’s title calls it. It speaks about the difference between pleasure (‘This feels good, I want more’) and happiness (‘This feels good, I am contented and complete’) and how the yearning for pleasure feeds into addictions and the short-term satisfaction of dopamine rushes. Businesses (ab)use this the search for pleasure through “neuromarketing (…) a deliberate corporate conspiracy to hook people on addictive junk foods, with no regard for health consequences” (p. 299). This is not a theory, the authors state, but realism, primarily aimed at the vulnerable, among whom children. In this context, the term ‘Coca-colonization’ (p. 301) is used, a contemporary capitalist form of preying on certain groups. Many people thus get addicted on all kinds of substances, such as unhealthy foods, alcohol, and nicotine, that are not forbidden in the name of health, but often heavily taxed by the government and then cause illness that is often treated with medication. This is seemingly normal and often not frowned upon. Illness is still seen by many as a matter of ‘bad luck’. The addiction to medication (profiting pharmaceutical companies) concerns much larger numbers, however, than the addiction to opioids and the like. That last form of addiction, however, is most certainly condemned and those falling for it, in their effort to self-medicate, are heavily punished and stigmatised. The chapter then makes a comparison between characteristics of sociopaths and large corporations, arguing that the latter should be given that same label.

Chapter 22 and 23 discuss the dire consequences of the disadvantages certain classes and ‘races’ (some no longer want to use this word; see also p. 314) have to endure. Women are also routinely disadvantaged, their problems being compounded by their female sex added to race and class. This phenomenon can be called “biological embedding, (…) that our social environments and experiences (…) get under the skin early in life, shaping our biology and development” (p. 312). Another concept in this context is that of intersectionality, the idea that it is hard to clearly differentiate between certain factors as causal for hardship, because they are at play simultaneously, with the one often increasing the severity of the other. When you are constantly the target of ‘othering’, being treated as intrinsically different and alien, what may arise is an “assaulted sense of self” (p. 315), being defined by someone else’s negative ideas about you.

All these kinds of stressors and the way they get under the skin, are triggering for “inflammation-promoting genes” (p. 319), leading to a high allostatic load, toxifying the body and wearing it out. Different kinds of discrimination continuously trigger survival defenses, the basis of many diseases. This leads to much shorter life expectancies in the most underprivileged groups. Cited is anthropologist Ashley Montagu, who termed this “sociogenic brain damage”, with more recently a scientist calling poverty a “neurotoxin” (p. 326). All these factors are called social determinants of health (with a whole field of scientific study surrounding it, such as DOHaD, Developmental Origins of Health and Disease). A sobering example is given of how this would translate to healthcare advice. Instead of ‘Stop smoking’, practitioners would have to say ‘Don’t be poor’, ‘Don’t work in a stressful job’ or ‘Don’t live near a polluting factory’.

Chapter 23, on women as ‘shock absorbers’, adds another layer to all of this, namely patriarchy, bringing about toxic power dynamics. One effect is that women often resort to “self-silencing (…), the tendency to silence one’s thoughts and feelings to maintain safe relationships, particularly intimate relationships” (p. 333, 334). Anger building up inside, as expression would risk income or family security, in the long term leads to illness due to the never subsiding stress it causes. Women are often “the designated emotional caregivers” (p. 337), but they pay a price: it weakens their immune systems. There is still a huge male-oriented bias in many aspects of social life (wages, medicine, job positions). Men often feel very entitled, even to women’s care, which can have implications for children who may lose out on maternal attention. Women often decide to go along to get along, to “make sure everybody else is happy” (p. 340). This result of “toxic masculinity”, the authors say, such societal suppression of the feminine, is lethal, and in fact shows “male fragility” (p. 341, 342).
In this chapter, Gabor once again does not spare his own role within his marriage and family – a very brave way of showing the much needed vulnerability and accountability he advocates.

Chapter 24, the last of this part, deals with the way all of this seeps into our politics, with “the wounded electing the wounded, the traumatized leading the traumatized and inexorably, implementing policies that entrench traumatizing social conditions” (p. 344). The earlier described ‘social character’, a character that is very common and thus considered ‘normal’, is represented by politicians. The way they operate, maintaining established power patterns, leads to “toxic myths becom[ing] normalized truths” (p. 345). The authors refer to the way we build our worldview in the early years and how a closer examination of ‘troubled’ politicians shows that usually they did indeed have very troubled, traumatic childhoods, where harshness was not a stranger to the family dynamics. Once in power, these people often do not have much issue with creating their own reality: “there are plenty of congenial liars, but no congenital ones” (p. 350). This once again points to the fact that much of what we become later in life, is a consequence of how we were raised, whether in the early years our needs were met or not, and how we then may try to meet them after all, even if we will never succeed to obtain what we missed out on in the first place. Celebrating and encouraging such leaders and these leaders celebrating their own stern childhoods, the chapter says, is “a public celebration of trauma” (p. 352). These processes can also be recognised in the way other celebrities are pictured in the media and how they often portray themselves: “a fan base is the closest they can come to filling a life-long void of homegrown esteem” (p. 356). It can be hard to recognise this void as such, because we so want believe in the magic of their fame.

Next week, the final part of the book will be the topic of our blog. This Part V is called ‘Pathways to Wholeness’.

Book review of ‘The Myth of Normal’, Part 3

Last week, we discussed Part II of ‘The Myth of Normal’; this week, we will look at Part III, called ‘Rethinking Abnormal: Afflictions as Adaptations’.

Chapter 15 and 16 deal with the way addictions are still often viewed, “either the product of ‘bad choices’ or else a ‘disease’ ” (p. 213). Fact of the matter is that they are almost always “rooted in coping mechanisms” (p. 216), an effort to survive through what feels hard or impossible to endure or even life-threatening. Any addiction, be it a substance or a behaviour, is a way for someone to find inner peace and quiet, a sense of safety instead of feeling abnormal, unworthy, and deficient.

My first encounter with Gabor Maté was through watching the film ‘The House I Live in’, on and off freely available online (but not right now, as it seems). This impressive and somehow heartbreaking film deals with the addiction issues of relatives of the former nanny of film-maker Eugene Jarecki and the embeddedness of their problems in the political forces and social structure in the United States. Somewhere in, Gabor says: “When people are in pain, they want to soothe their pain, so the question is not ‘why the addiction’, but ‘why the pain?’ ” That question is revisited in these chapters and it is explained that the central theme of addiction is pain and how addiction is an effort at self-medication of that pain.

The definition of addiction that is a red thread through all Gabor’s work is this one:
“Addiction is a complex psychological, emotional, physiological, neurobiological, social, and spiritual process. It manifests through any behavior in which a person finds temporary relief or pleasure and therefore craves, but that in the long term causes them or others negative consequences, and yet the person refuses or is unable to give it up” (p. 224, 225).

This definition is, as can be seen, not about disease or moral weakness, but about survival. It is also not restricted to drugs. It is about any behaviour that helps one “from intolerable feeling incurred through adversity and never processed, and into a state of temporary freedom, even if illusory” (p. 229).

Related to adversity is of course the ACE-study by Robert Anda and Vincent Felitti from 1998, dealing with Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE’s) and the multiplying effect they have on one another. In this context, the term ‘syndemics’ comes to mind, a concept “introduced recently by medical anthropologists to label the synergistic interaction of two or more coexistent diseases and resultant excess burden of disease” (Singer 2016). With healthy development and healthy brain systems, based on early closeness to emotionally attuned parents, we will have less need for ‘dope’, a term for drugs that interestingly seems very close to the longed-for dopamine they provide (p. 232).

Chapter 17 states that what is often termed ‘mental illness’, when viewed from a different angle, is actually an injury to the peoples’ nervous systems by way of ACE’s or other traumatic experiences. What is called ‘mental illness’ is in most cases a dysfunction based on life events, not on genetics, but: “The gospel of genetic causation shields us from having to confront our hurts, leaving us all the more at their mercy” (p. 239). The authors point out that in some cultures, people with the behaviours or qualities that are related to ‘mental illness’ are seen as the sage ones, the ones who bring wisdom to their tribes, the bearers of hidden knowledge and insights. In fact, the theory of ‘chemical imbalance’ as the cause of mental illness has never been proven, nor have biomarkers been found. When asked, researchers had to admit: “Well, we didn’t really find that. It’s a metaphor” (p. 241). The chapter also takes up the topic of the way the DSM-5 comes to certain diagnoses and how dubious those are. It quotes Bruce Perry, who feels “playing the DSM game is completely wrong” and we should diagnose our communities and societies instead (p. 244). Even if there are ACE’s, however, Perry feels that it is important to look at the present connectedness in relationships, that can have a very healing effect on previous sequelae of adversity.

Nevertheless, we should not be casual about ACE’s, seeing that some people are “exquisitely sensitive to their environment, making them especially vulnerable under conditions of adversity but unusually vital, creative, and successful within supportive, nurturing environments”, the so-called ‘orchids’, as opposed to dandelions, who have an easier time thriving in all kinds of habitats (p. 250).
Again, all of this is not meant to blame anyone, just point out where we might look for causes and solutions by taking responsibility: “It is entirely possible to embrace responsibility without taking on the useless baggage of guilt or blame” (p. 252).

Part III ends with Chapter 18, which explains how certain behaviours have an adaptive function, “the surest way of escaping overwhelming levels of vulnerability” by distancing oneself “from emotions that are unbearable at a time in life when to experience them is to court greater calamity” (p. 255, 254). What happens in case of ‘mental illness’ or ‘brain disorders’ should thus be seen as a reflection of life experiences. Once children have to habitually suppress their emotions, it becomes increasingly hard to “discern between major and minor threats – or no threat at all” (p. 259). The dissociation this might lead to, is a form of self-defense against the pain that might result from maintained vulnerability. This is one side of what Gabor calls ‘the wisdom of trauma’, the wisdom of the body, the organism as a whole, to find ways to survive the unbearable.

An extensive discussion on ADHD has a plea for creating less stressful environments for children. They are “canaries in the coal mine”, where the coal mine stands for the societies we create and that hinder healthy brain development and plasticity, and biopsychosocial wellbeing. To keep a population healthy, to not inflict wounds and to be able to attend to them if they exist, is not merely an individual task, but an assignment for cultures as a whole.

Next week, we will discuss Part IV, ‘The Toxicities of Our Culture’.

Book review ‘The Myth of Normal’, Part 2

The Myth of Normal, Part 2

Last week, we discussed Part I of ‘The Myth of Normal’, the new book by Gabor Maté and his son Daniel Maté. This week we turn to Part II, ‘The Distortion of Human Development. In this part, the authors deal with the core aspects of human development, from the basic infant needs, via the way we are born and developments around parenting, to their influence on childhood and the impact of the culture we live in on all of this.

Chapter 8 poses the question what human nature is, what we need for good health. Good health and full unfolding of potential will only result if basic needs are being met; this is true for any life-form – think of a tree lacking the right nutrients or enough light. Genes play a role, for sure, but: “We are freer from genetics than any other species on earth” (p. 118). For many people, this is still a fairly new idea, sometimes understandably confronting. It means that our environment really, really matters and this has huge implications for how we organise society. It also means that interpersonal relationships are of great relevance. We have an innate need for reciprocity and being attuned with others, a “neural expectancy”, as worded by neuroscientist and researcher Stephen Porges, who coined the Polyvagal Theory: “” (p. 120). Other have described this as humans being ‘wired for connection’. To understand human relationships and human behaviour, it is well worth looking into his theory, that we will discuss in a different review.

Chapter 9 explains children’s irreducible needs. What is emphasised is that we are feeling creatures, before we are thinking creatures. What we feel in our earliest stages and the emotional knowledge and wisdom we thus develop, has a huge impact on how we think once the intellectual knowledge comes online: “If emotion is the ground of cognition, then relationships are the tectonic plates that shape that ground” (p. 125). For the foundation to be sturdy, a welcoming caregiving environment is necessary, where the child can be authentic. What is often called ‘misbehaviour’ can then be seen as “a need frustrated, a communication unheard, an emotion unprocessed” (p. 127), in short: security not provided. The chapter then discusses some of the seven major brain systems as discerned by Dr. Jaak Panksepp in his work on affective neuroscience: SEEKING, CARE, PLAY and LUST, besides FEAR, RAGE and PANIC/GRIEF. Gordon Neufeldt is quoted for his four irreducible needs: 1. the attachment relationship, 2. attachment security, 3. permission to feel one’s emotions, and 4. the experience of free play. All these needs and systems have to do with that crucial need for connection and security.

Chapter 10 discusses the matter of stress before birth. The whole chapter is about pre- and perinatal psychology, the importance of intrauterine environment for the developing child and how “emotional and neurological imprints [are] embedded in the cells and nervous system of the human organism” (p. 139). It is very touching to read how Gabor is well aware of how he influenced the birth environment his wife Rae could (not) provide, due to his own unhealed trauma and the “interpersonal biology” through which we (dis- or co-)regulate one another. He actively writes himself into the story and takes ownership of his role, making visible something of the path he has walked with his family, a path that has now resulted in a book that he wrote together with his son.

It is crucial to be aware, however, that this environment is not merely an individual issue, but something taking shape in a social context, or, as Gabor often says: “Before our minds can create the world, the world creates our minds” (see also p. 366) – and, thus, a preverbal memory of what the world is like. The social context can either support or undermine these environments through all kinds of stressors, increasing the likelihood of all possible kinds of disease. Therefore, the book advocates that the womb and “ a pregnancy should be like entering a shrine, a sacred place and time” (p. 145) and like ancient peoples, we should learn to understand (or ‘innerstand’, as some say) “the sanctity of the intrauterine environment” (p. 144).

Chapter 11 deals with the medicalisation of birth and the fact that “obstetrical practice ignores the genuine and natural needs of mothers and babies – in fact, it often runs roughshod over them” (p. 148). Birthing is not a matter of “pushing and pulling and cutting and catching”, but in cultures still heavily leaning on patriarchy, it is difficult to return from obstetrics back to midwifery and regain trust in natural processes. That is a true loss, as the hormonal cascades involved foster “warmth, nurturing, bonding, protection, and so on”, preparing “the template for the mother-infant relationship” (p. 155). The increase of the number of C-sections is for that and several other reasons a cause for concern, as is obstetric violence. The chapter makes a plea for humility on the side of healthcare providers, encouraging a knitting midwife as a quiet companion for the labouring woman going through that sacred life passage.

Chapter 12 dives into aspects of parenting and how often “the governing principle is what the parent prefers, not what the child needs” (p. 161). We have touched on this very topic before in the blog series on Adult Supremacy. This, again, is very much related to the way culture deals with developmental needs of children. The chapter explains how parenting advice through the centuries has focussed on how the child can be moulded into conforming to society’s expectations. In a contact-starved society it is hard to stay close to what Darcia Narvaez calls the “evolved nest”, an environment with a lot of soothing, responsiveness, touch, several years of breastfeeding, communal caregiving, positive social support, and creative free play. This is what humans as hunter-gatherers have seen as normal for ages and the lack of it is called “unnestedness” by Narvaez (p. 166,167). Narvaez, as well as Jean Liedloff, makes a plea for treating babies with dignity as the best way to foster both health and social competence. With parents much of the time being stressed or worried, there is a lot of “proximate separation”, to use Allan Schore’s description: physically being there, but not emotionally present. With so much sociocultural pressure, parents are regularly “fish out of water” (p. 177), lacking social structures to support them, which in turn creates “a breeding ground for personal and societal malaise” (p. 178).

Chapter 13 strongly emphasises the fact that there is no justification for simplistic ‘parent-blaming’, seeing that parents have to operate in a “socially toxic environment” with a lot of alienation and a “flight from vulnerability” (p. 185). The stress this causes, leads to a defensive state, which does not allow for healthy growth and development. The “persuasive design” of all kinds of products and programmes only adds fuel to the fire and creates brains that become addicted to short-term dopamine rushes to create instant gratification instead of more long-term ‘rewards’ from inspiring relationships and experiences, leading to higher oxytocin and serotonin levels. All of this harms both cognitive and social skills.

Chapter 14 discusses the influence of culture on who and how we are: “How we function as individuals cannot be understood outside of our relationship to the larger group” (p. 198). It leads to a ‘social character’, “the core character common to most members of a culture” (p. 201). What is considered ‘normal’, is thus highly dependent on what is expected of people, even if routines or habits or convictions are in themselves hardly understandable or defensible. Social acceptability thus becomes a driving force for behaviour, even if it is to a serious extent socially constructed by corporate entities trying to make a profit from the human insecurities of never having and never being enough.

Next week, we will blog on Part III of the book, ‘Rethinking Abnormal: Afflictions as Adaptations’.