Sometime ago
I watched a TV series where the director used the sound of a cricket chirping
to mean that “nothing” was happening in the scene when it should be. It struck
a chord. At that time I was going through professional training to learn how to
use EMDR (a psychological technique that helps a client process and heal from an
upsetting or traumatic event.) We are familiar with “fight or flight” as common
reactions to an overwhelming or threatening situation, but freeze (or playing
dead) is not as oft mentioned when it too is a natural and sometimes
life-saving defense mechanism. It was validating for me to hear this
information because I tend to shut down when I get overwhelmed.
I learn best
by doing, so I also did some personal work using EMDR as a tool with a
therapist. “Crickets” was the cue word I used with her to let her
know that I was getting flooded or going blank, and she would offer
encouragement or give me more time to process whatever issue we were working on
in a session.
It’s
interesting how simple awareness and acceptance of something can actually
change our experience of it. I used to get defensive and feel shame when I
would check out. Understanding that it has a useful purpose helped me be curious
about why I was freezing up as a response rather than having a judgmental
attitude. And ironically, when I just notice that I’m getting overwhelmed, I
either don’t feel the need to blank out at all or I find that I can snap back
much quicker when I do. It feels great to just be able to make sense of what’s
happening.
On a summer
hike a few years after my training I came upon an open field alive with crickets
loudly chirping away, males rubbing their leathery front
wings together in the hope of attracting a mate. I had to laugh because
my sense of “crickets” in that very moment underwent yet another transformation
with this new synthesis of experience. There is indeed a lot going on when
crickets chirp, one little creature calling out to another. In the same way, my
inclination to shut off is just a simple signal to myself to slow down
precisely because there is too much happening at once. Hearing the sweetness of
this familiar sound has an entirely new meaning to me: now it represents how my intuitive, wise Self
attunes to the chirp of whatever little part of me might be internally
struggling and responds with interest and support. I find in inspiring to know
that often the very things about me that I have judged as defective are really
just parts longing to be connected to and cared for.
May I be
brave enough to practice patience with all the parts of me that are still
tender or easily overwhelmed.
NN