The field of pets as therapists is really expanding, for example dogs can be trained to smell cancer and other forms of tumors and recently Psychiatric Service Dog Society, a newly formed organization to focus specifically on how dogs can support the mental health of humans, has worked with dogs trained to alert their owners to hypomanic episodes (the symptom experienced by people with bipolar illness that is the opposite of the depression and can have serious consequences).

Studies have been done to show that interaction with a pet can alleviate anxiety, increase survival rates for heart attack victims, reduce blood pressure, and increase self-esteem (I read this in Marc Bekoff’s, The Emotional Lives of Animals, but these studies are widely available).

As you have likely experienced, there is a lot happening in the field of interaction, or “Space” as I discussed in my last blog, between you and the animal, and in my opinion there are probably lots of connections occurring between the right-brains (that part of the brain that processes nonverbal communication among others things) of each.

However, one of the ways I think the interaction can be most beautifully described is in the words of Martin Buber:

“The eyes of an animal have the capacity of a great language.  Independent, without any need of the assistance of sounds and gestures, most eloquent when they rest entirely in their glance, they express the mystery in its natural captivity, that is, in the anxiety of becoming.  This state of the mystery is known only to the animal, which alone can open it up to us – for this state can only be opened up and not revealed.” (I and Thou, 1923)

What amazing creatures, these beings who have endless love for us, and actually prefer to socialize and where possible support the health of their human counterparts.  If I really stop to think (and feel) how much compassion, and selfless and unconditional love that pets show, it brings tears to my eyes.

And, it also makes me realize that we, as humans, have a responsibility here too.  Pets will give and give and give, and I think that dynamic asks of us to ensure we care for them, and protect them, and love them in return.  In other words, as our culture starts to ask more and more of pets in the form of aiding to human health, we have an responsibility, no I’ll suggest an obligation, to understand and pay attention to the effects this has on them both individually and as a species.  We cannot treat them as commodities in our pursuit of health, we must relate to them in ways that allow us to see them as uniquely individual beings and not simply as but one more means to our personal safety and security.  And I think this means facing that “anxiety of becoming” as Buber suggested and moving into a new relationship with animals where we see ourselves not as their masters, but as their friends.

How about you?  What do you think of pet therapy, and how do you think those pets who do therapy feel about it?

In some sense, the bear’s symbol is related to Artemis, the Goddess of the Moon.  As such, the bear is associated with lunar qualities, and as a result of its magnificent strength and lethal capabilities, Carl Jung connects the symbol of the bear with the dangerous side of the unconscious.  Note: these symbol associations are from the Penguin Dictionary of Symbols.

I feel like it would be nice to be a bear, this connection to the unconscious makes sense to me and my desire to sleep through wintertime while waiting for summer.  If, as Jung and Freud suggested (and Rashin blogged about last week), the unconscious houses all those things we would rather not be aware of, then likely there are things that hold an energy for me that I would rather not stir.  The cycle of life seems to suggest that the appropriate time to “stir” those things and begin anew is now, Springtime.  For me, this often manifests in a difficulty in throwing things away.  I often have grand visions of a clean desk or garage, and I do fairly well, but in the end I usually hold onto a few things from years prior that probably could go to the trash bin.  Then, ironically over time they get an “antique” quality that makes them even harder to let go of in future cleaning cycles.  If the corners of my mind, that is my unconscious, would rather hibernate, then perhaps so too would the corners of my house represent all those memories I would rather not clear out.

I live in Colorado and thankfully, the seasonal changes are just as sporadic as I feel.  For example, last week we had 70 degree weather, today we are shoveling 15+ inches of snow.  What a place.  Last week I was feeling like I was behind in my Spring Cleaning, this week I’m feeling like it would be premature to do it.

Eventually the bear inside me will awake and I will be ready to clean things out and begin anew.  Yet, by its definition, there will always be a place inside my mind that is unconscious, and I guess I have to accept the same in my house, that there will always be places that could be cleaned out, and not every space will be perfectly clean.

What about you?  Do you ever feel like a bear, and prefer to hibernate?  Do you see a connection between that and your desires to participate in Spring Cleaning?

Note:  I originally published this post on www.depthpsychologytoday.com on March 27, 2009.

Likely, most of us aspire to be more like real, living tigers rather than paper ones, so why all the focus on not clinging to habitual patterns?

Thinking about what a habitual pattern is, I realized there is a neurological aspect occurring simultaneous to the display of the habit.  In our brains, after we pass the age of three, we are mature enough to start making neural connections based on experience.  Up to that point, our Limbic System is primarily driving our behavior.  The Limbic System encompasses the functions we share with the animal kingdom, including such things as our “fight or flight” responses, our capacity for infatuation, as well as our process to store memories as pictures (as we mature we include narrative with memory).

The Limbic System is active our entire lifetime, however as we mature we start building neural connections that help us understand and, as possible, predict our environment.  For example, we start to verbalize our needs and desires, say for food, and when reinforced by the acquisition of a meal, we quickly make a connection in our brain (a neural connection) about the steps required to receive food the next time we are hungry.

Over a lifetime, the web of neural connections is immense.  There are millions of neurons in the brain, each one capable of making thousands of connections.  And herein lies the physical representation of what is described above.  Our habitual patterns aren’t just quirky ways we live in the world, they are also physical neural connections within the brain.  In other words, inside each habitual pattern that we find ourselves, there is a corresponding map of connections across neurons in our brains.

This web of neural connections can start to feel oppressive.  The term “breaking a habit” now takes on additional meaning, because we can see this as “breaking” the neural connection within our brain that is related to the habit.

However, when we break open a connection, we are vulnerable.  There is a waiting space while some new connection is made.  And I believe the goal that Trungpa is describing is to always allow this openness and vulnerableness, that is, to ALWAYS make a new neural connection when we take an action, and this means not having an expectation of the outcome.

As an example, what if your experience is that when you share your opinion, you are dismissed?  Either growing up or in your adult life doesn’t really matter, but somehow you have a neural connection that suggests that sharing your opinion will lead to a dismissal which will lead to pain.  So, your habitual pattern is that you are mainly a quiet person, sharing only socially acceptable opinions, if asked.

Each time you feel the urge to speak that neural connection is firing for you, and you have a choice of whether to speak.  Let’s say choosing not to speak is your “habitual pattern.”  Being able to find that moment to pause and not follow your habitual pattern is the waiting space referred to above.  Being able to wait in the moment, and allowing your brain to break its neural connection (or expectation of the future outcome) and waiting to see what happens after you speak is the goal.

In the waiting, you are breaking the habitual pattern and its corresponding neural connection.  However, in waiting for the outcome (and not simply creating a new habitual pattern by expecting to people to listen well to you) is what is being asked.

And so I ask you to comment, are you a paper tiger or closer to a real tiger?  Does it enliven your thoughts about habits to know they have a corresponding structure in your brain?

Note:  I originally published this post on www.depthpsychologytoday.com on February 14, 2009.

The emerging field of Equine Assisted Psychotherapy is proceeding, whether or not the answer to the above question is clear.  EAP is psychotherapy with the addition of a horse, or in some cases a group of horses.  In an EAP session, there is a participant, a psychotherapist, a horse specialist, and a horse.  The participant interacts with the horse with the support of the psychotherapist, and the assistance and safety assurance of the horse specialist.  The incorporation of horses into therapy provides an experiential opportunity for healing that goes beyond traditional methods.  Both the psychotherapist and horse specialist must have specific training in EAP.  Since its founding in 1999, the Equine Assisted Growth and Learning Association, an international non-profit providing EAP training, has granted over 3,000 certifications.

What’s going on here?

The unique human connection to horses is documented as far back as ancient Greece, by Greek historian and philosophical essayist, Xenophon.  Born in Athens around 430 B.C.E. Xenophon was studying the way the relationship between horse and rider can be an expression of the archetype of Beauty.   In her book, Dressage in the Fourth Dimension, author Sherry Ackerman, explains Xenophon’s view this way, “The ancient teaching held that Beauty was expressed by harmony which was born of perfect balance.  The body, mind and spirit of the rider were to attain this integrated state of balance…a harmonious partnership between horse and rider, which expressed itself in Beauty.”

Practitioners and participants of EAP often remark that it is the horse’s demeanor that is healing.  Horses have a quiet and observant nature, and they are extremely responsive.  Given their status as prey animals, they also display a constant vigilance.  These traits can be modeled for EAP participants, especially to those who have experienced trauma from a loved one or family member, for example sexual trauma.  Survivors of sexual trauma have a need to rebuild skills in trusting the connection in human relationships, and often can benefit from objective validation of their instincts.  In other words, if one has been violated by a loved one, the lines between appropriate and inappropriate treatment are blurred.  Horses, with the traits mentioned above, model what is accepted in the animal kingdom and what is not tolerated.  Being immersed in a pack of horses, participants get an understanding of appropriate and loving ways to be in relationship.  In effect, the horses provide a bridge for the participants in re-establishing appropriate and loving human relationships.

Perhaps it is through EAP we get to see another incarnation of Xenophon’s idea of the expression of Beauty, that being the beauty of one species giving to another a model for loving connection.

What do you think?  How have you seen the beauty of the human & animal connection displayed in your life?

Note:  If you’d like to learn more about how EAP, here are two groups that are leading the way: http://www.medicinehorse.org/ and http://www.movingtoendsexualassault.org/

Note 2: I originally published this post on www.depthpsychologytoday.com on February 5, 2009.

Similarly, we can view our relationship to a group, say animals, as reflective of what they represent within us.

Recently, I attended a book signing by author Marc Bekoff, who wrote a book I like called, The Emotional Lives of Animals. In it, Bekoff discusses the unfortunate view of science that laboratory animals do not possess emotions thus they do not experience the suffering of scientific testing. In fact, although it is supposed to be in place for their protection, the Animal Welfare Act excludes rats bred for research from the definition of “animal” for scientific needs.

If we have an industry-approved definition of “animal” that does not include all animals, what does that say about us, as a society? Depth psychology would answer this question by looking at our relationship to what the rat symbolizes.

To begin an investigation, let’s look at the rat as a symbol (any reference to how these animals are regarded in culture will do, I used the Penguin Dictionary of Symbols). As is true for many, there is a light and dark side to the symbol of the rat. A result of their nocturnal and abundant procreation habits, the rat can both represent wealth (as in the capability to create abundance), as well as thievery (as in stealing abundance from another).

So, as a society, how do we relate to the idea of wealth? As the separation of socio-economic status continues to widen across the U.S. population at an alarming rate, what does our relationship to the rat suggest? How do we view the abilities of someone who can generate wealth and abundance for themselves? How do we view our own abilities to create abundance?

Quite timely, one of the most controversial topics in the recent news is the idea of further regulation on the ability to create abundance, that being the question of additional taxation for specific income levels. With the economic crisis, it seems we’re all looking for appropriate ways to relate to our abundance, both personally (should I pay off my home equity loan or take out more cash?) and collectively (should we really give loans to the auto industry?).

To shed light on this topic, from a depth psychological perspective, this would mean taking time to understand our own instincts to create abundance, and secondarily, how we feel about the ability of others to do the same. This means understanding our relationship to the rat.

And so, I invite your opinion…what is your relationship to the rat? How do you see the ability to create abundance in your own life? Do you feel pleased or guilty if you do create abundance, what about if you don’t? How do you see the ability to create abundance treated in our society?

Note:  I originally published this post on www.depthpsychologytoday.com on January 5, 2009