My Wife.

 

Her love burns as steadfast as an Olympic flame,

Devoted beyond all or any measure that I may deserve,

Pure and simple feeling as a sweet girl into her seventies.

   All I know is,

  Soiled grubby child from the near Dickensian backstreets,

  Of my poverty constricted London child and youthhood,

  Disheveled, with one shoe on and no socks,

  And straw in my badly cut hair,

   

  I am not worthy.

   c. Brian Green. Los Angeles. 05/2024.

Energetic Event.

 

Perhaps,

The eternal everlasting pulsing crashing of

Our entire vast cosmic galaxies

Is nothing but

One quantum spasm

In the left testicle

Of God.

 

Now I’m wondering

Who is he fucking?

 

c. Brian Green, Los Angeles, 2023.

Today I have added several new blog sites to publish this blog. Spreading my wings.

Haiku x 3. Version 2.   

Regarding Creating                                                 

Psycho-spiritual Hypnotherapy.

 

Slipping through

My logical mind fingers 

Quicksilvers of reality.

 

The truth always turning out

So much simpler

Than I thought it would be.

 

It’s so very rewarding

Liberating souls 

From their own darkness

 

Brian Green c. 12/2022

Well, whodeathunkit.

I am bowled over, and humbled. I have been working on the phone only, with a most lovely lady, who I have never met in person. She has been battling cancer for the past five years. She is taking her last doses of Chemotherapy, as it has metastased to her organs, and she is/was at stage 4, i.e. near terminal. She was recently told by her Doctor that if these last rounds of Chemotherapy don't work, (which he alluded was a strong possibility) she should prepare herself to go home and die. I just received this email from her. Sessions every two weeks, after session 1 and session 2 after a week, to start off. Approx 10 weeks.

Hi Brian!

Hope you are having a nice weekend! I just need to share the amazing news I got last night couldn’t wait until next Thursday.

Since June 3 to present my tumor markers have dropped from 83 to 31!!!!

I’m going to make you famous! N.....

(I had joked with her, that if she recovered, she would be obliged to make me famous.)

Methods.

 

1. Bibliotherapy, "You Can Fight For Your Life." by Lawrence LeShan, a Clinical Psychologist who worked with terminal cancer patients with incredible results.

2. Counseling as to the nature of the potential of mind/body healing, including my own case histories that can be read on http://www.mindmagic123.com/id130.html

3. Using first my Self-Esteem" self-hypnosis mp3, followed by my "Pain Control and Healing From Within." self-hypnosis mp3.

4. Working through current emotional reactions to pain and other emotional and physical distress caused by the progression of her Cancers. Relieving her natural depressed state.

5. Uncovering/resolving suppressed emotional issues. There are psychological profiles of cancer patients that show them as strongly emotionally repressed/suppressed. LeShan reports that incomplete or buried grief is a major contributor to Cancer.

6. Using imagery visualizations such as picturing herself as healthy in the future as a regular self-hypnosis practice, and her cells devouring the Cancer cells that are weakened by the chemotherapy.

7. Other of my regular general trance-scripts in trance portion of the sessions, that support emotional growth and recovery.

8. Keeping a positive upbeat realistic confidence in my abilities, trance-mitting hope and Unconditional Positive Regard, (Carl Rogers) also more colloquially known as Love. I also learned a lot from Bernie Siegel, M.D. ex-president of the American Society Of Cancer Surgeons, author of, "Love, Medicine and Miracles." and "Peace, Love and Healing." Not allowing my own doubt, fear and feelings of helplessness to get in the way of my belief in the possibility of remission and/or healing of her tumors, despite Medical parameters.

Nam-bloody-maste eh mate!

I came across this piece again by a young lady who was a client of mine a while back. I think it deserves a wider audience, an honest intense powerful piece about rape. Not for the faint hearted.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HchVpWalHuQ&feature=youtu.be

On the edge of nowhere.

 

Nothing is forever

And forever is nothing to write home about

Eternity is a blink of God’s eyelid before a new dawn

Surprising timeless tomorrows with yesterday’s ghost

Not knowing how to decide which is mostly

As sweet as marmalade on slightly burnt toast

Enough of the rhythmic riddles rattling around my brain

Yielding no progress, does it exist?

Alone on the boundary between now and then

Wandering and wondering how and when

Discovering nothing worth talking about more often than not

Perhaps that’s all wisdom is

Knowing that only knowing nothing worth knowing

Is all of man’s lot.

c. Brian Green Los Angeles   09/2019

Musings on moving from elderly to ancient at seventy seven years old...

 

My knowledge shrinks in the face of vastness of sky-built vault above

And the stars in the firmament are mocking the minute stature of my dwelling

Even the rocks cry as they are worn away during the night

And the ice groans in the dead of the Arctic Winter

Absolution and comfort denied by the limited marrow of our nature

We can only cringe in wonder before the majesty of the unknown

Hoping to die with all the dignity that can be mustered

By our miniature rapidly fleeting existence

Hurrying down the corridors of time eventually

To the last full stop.

Holistic Hypnosis & Hypnotherapy - Los Angeles

April 3, 2009

Discuss Hypnotherapy, Hypnosis, Drugoholism and Site Issues7:51 pm pdt          Co

 A long time female client of mine came to a session after being diagnosed with a 5 cm ovarian cyst, with surgery scheduled soon. 

We processed current feelings connected to her husband, which turned out to be a re-run of child feelings around her mother.

Shortly, she went back for a pre-surgical examination, and the cyst was no longer to be found!

We were both surprised at how effective the session had been, but she remarked, “I think I cried the contents of the cyst out as tears!”

 Holistic Hypnosis & Hypnotherapy - Los Angeles

The week before last, a long-time female friend of mine died She was eighty years old.  A friend, not an ex-lover. I knew her for about forty years. Her name was Celeste, who I used to jokingly address as “Celestial Being.”  Early on in our friendship, she gave me a gift of such loving kindness, which I will remember for as long as I live. 

My brother, five years younger than I, also died that same week, at seventy one. He lived in the UK, and I had not seen him for over forty years. He sent me a card every Christmas. We were not close. I am seventy six, nearly died once. I was on life support in intensive care after emergency abdominal surgery, for two weeks, a few years ago. I am only alive today due to the miracles of modern intensive medical care

I first began to become aware of my own approaching mortality many years prior to that. At around fifty years old I began noticing occasional obituaries for a person who was younger than I was at the time. This was not reassuring. As the years have been going by, these obituaries increased to a trickle, then a river, then a flood. But something else has changed. Now, when I see an obituary for someone older than myself, I find myself subtracting my current age from theirs, and calculating how many years I have left, should I live to their ripe old age. Each year, the average number is shrinking, diminishing, as the looming horizon of my own death is approaching.

One effect I am observing this is having on me, is to lessen my attachment to possessions. Knowing I won’t be around forever, or less, gives me more of a “so what” attitude towards my earthly goods. Even in the past, if someone strongly liked some book of mine a lot, or some other minor possession, more than I cared for it, I would give it to them. I grew up in a household that did not celebrate Christmas or Birthdays with presents, and I am OK with that, and I don’t give them as an adult. Besides, I don’t allow society to control when and what I give. But if I have a good feeling for someone, I may give them a gift at any time. I tell my wife when I give her something, that they are Unbirthday Presents. This idea comes from “Winnie the Pooh” by A.A. Milne, I think. She loves that. When I first met her, fearing rejection, I hesitantly told her, “You may think I’m crazy, but I don’t give Christmas or Birthday presents.” She replied, “You don’t know the freedom you just gave me!” A match made in Heaven, n’est ce pas!

During those passing years, I also reached some conclusions about life and death. After studying all kinds of literature from all kinds of spiritual areas, I have come to believe that, “Nobody knows nuttin.’” about it life and death. For human beings, thinking they are going to comprehend life and death and the Cosmos, the infinite, with their finite minds, to me is arrogance. In this area I have decided, there are many opinions, but very few facts. Speculative suppositions dressed up as actualities reign supreme.  Accepting that nobody knows, never has, or never will, gave me freedom from having to find the meaning of life, which I worried at like a dog with a bone. I think this is what the Buddhists are referring to when they say, “The finger pointing at the Moon is not the Moon.” And, “He, who thinks he knows, knows not. He, who knows he knows not, knows.” I myself know I know not, so I’m OK. 

 Now believing that whatever the essence, the Soul, the personality, the consciousness or energy that constitute the Earthly entity which I currently recognize as Brian, may not persist after my demise: or if it does, it may not be in a form that the Brian I am now would recognize, sets me free from one aspect of my fear of death. This was actually a fear of disintegrating or disappearing, it turns out. As I know nothing about the afterlife, (or the before-life for that matter) if there is any, I am powerless to affect or control it. And one lesson I have learned thoroughly in this  life is that letting go of and not thinking about that which I am powerless over is the only way to go. Acceptance, I have discovered, is the gateway to peace of mind.. And happiness, without peace of mind, is not a possibility.

Holistic Hypnosis & Hypnotherapy - Los Angeles 

I have been notified that I have won  a Health, Beauty & Wellness Award for "Best Hypnotherapy Practice in Los Angeles." given by Lux Magazine, out of the UK. Mazeltov. https://www.lux-review.com/lux_awards/health-beauty-wellness-awards/

This explains a lot. It was on one of my hypnosis forums.

Quoting Aleister Crowley, no less.  What a brilliant mind before it was destroyed.

 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

“This may interest someone if there is anyone here shaking his head over the antics of hucksters like Rhonda Byrne and Joe Vitale. Vitale, you may remember from the movie The Secret, says all you have to do to get rich is lie on a beach and wish upon a star. I found this in THE CONFESSIONS OF ALEISTER CROWLEY, describing essentially the same nonsense as it was taught in the early twentieth century. Crowley said America was plagued with "countless cults for drawing in dollars by wishing one had them, persuading oneself that somehow or other they will arrive." (Confessions, p. 843) Some things never change.”

 

"One cannot deal with Americans on the principles which seem inevitable in Europe. One often sees a placard in offices, "Come in without knocking. Go out the same way." They would rather not hear unpleasant truths. What! Shoot a sleeping sentinel? Nope; rush the chloroform in case he wakes! They have learnt the psychological fact that confidence is a real asset. A man works best when he feels he is sure to succeed. A fear of failure palsies every faculty. The vogue of Christian Science, and countless cults for drawing in dollars by wishing one had them, persuading oneself that somehow or other they will arrive, scorning every success, forgetting every failure, shutting one's eyes to unpleasant facts, and interpreting every bit of good luck as a triumph beyond the power of trumpets to tell - a token of the intense interest taken by the Almighty in His favourite child - this course of conduct, though its more reasonable practitioners are ready to admit that it is rant and rubbish, is pursued as part of a calculated policy. They are ready to fool themselves in order to take advantage of the stimulating effect of optimism.

 

The other side of the medal is this: when any man points to any fact that shakes this opium serenity, checks this cocaine self-assurance, that man takes a chance of a free ride out of town on a rail. The spirit of criticism is detested and dreaded. It is easy to understand why this is. The States have been won from the wilderness by a system which demanded courage and clear sight from the pioneers; but once the trail was blazed, the rest of the work was done on a basis of credit which a European banker would consider utterly reckless gambling. Everyone, from the farmer and merchant to the manufacturer and financier, entered into a tacit agreement to bet that any given enterprise would succeed. As the natural resources were there, while luck decreed that the commonwealth should not have to face any overwhelming obstacle, the gamblers have won. It is obvious that any man in an outpost besieged by nature (such as is every new settlement outside New England, the Atlantic coast and the old settlements in the south) was really a traitor if he said however truthfully, anything which might daunt the spirit of his comrades. Those men won out through sheer ignorance of the chances against them, stolid stupidity which blinded them to their desperate plight and bestial insensibility to the actual hardships which they had to endure. It was criminal to insist on the existence of evils for which there was no remedy.

 

This spirit has persisted, though its utility is past. It has become a fixed feature of the religion of the country. It was the deadliest delusion that I had to meet."

 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

(This is the similar basis of my past statement, "Optimism beyond reality becomes denial." as a comment on this aspect, of that which I term the American mythic ethos). He also notes as I have, that much of this is based on occupying a land of vast untapped riches, and mistaking that for social and personal superiority. He, being closer to the time, was more aware of the horrendous conditions of occupying and "developing" this huge territory. (And not confused by the rose colored spectacles of Hollywood myth that I was steeped in.) And seeing the roots of the over-dependency on unified patriotic thought at times of conflict with external foes. 9/11 as an Indian attack on the settlement! So I am in good (bad) company once more!

 

Best from the Brain of Brian. c. Los Angeles 02/ 2016

Today I was out for a stroll in my local park.

A woman was walking her small dog.

He had sniffed out something to eat under a bench.

She was talking to him in Russian.

Silly woman.

Everyone knows that dogs can't speak Russian.

Holistic Hypnosis & Hypnotherapy - Los Angeles.

  

What I Like In Art. 08/14/14

 

I like intensity and genius, not genres. Not bluesy, but Billie Holiday. Not jazzy, but Thelonius Monk, Roland Kirk, John Coltrane etc. Better yet, the best of Jelly Roll Morton. Duke Ellington is even a bit too polished for my taste at times. I like raw, primitive, like he great Leadbelly, or civilized but ecstatic, Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suites, purity of joy, sadness, whatever from the heart, gut and soul. The galloping canons of Moondog. Not merely musical or from a Musical. Savage like original African drum music. Filled with life, sexy, down and dirty joyous, like "My Dingaling" by Chuck Berry, the phosphorescent incandescence of Janis Joplin, and so on. The incredible purity of Classical Japanese Shakuhachi wooden flute music. The plaint of geese flying across a marsh on a foggy estuary early morning, the keening nostalgia of all our losses in and/or of any long gone Autumn. The whine of the Sitar and the Veena, drowsy dusty medieval meditations in the noonday heat of a mud hut. Not Ravi Shankar, too soft and sentimental, but the sinewy strenghth and tenderness of David Oistrach on the violin. Usted Bismillah Khan on the Shehnai. When I reported this last preference to an Indian gentleman some years ago he said, "But Brian, he is one of the most famous musicians in all of India."

 

I have recently bought a 3 CD set of Jewish Klezmer musicians from the 1st half of the last century. Jews who carried the gypsy music from Eastern Europe, the rhythms of Israel, combined with the Jazz they heard here in the USA. Only one artist stood out to me, Naftule Brandewein. I now also have an entire CD of him, which I loaned to a young client, (as a child he was a bit of a musical prodigy). He said to me, with astonishment, "His music is boundless." I said yes, "Infinite liquid fire." It turns out he is the one recognized by all in that field as a genius. He could not read or write music, was a paranoid crazed drinker and womanizer. Exactly my kind of guy. Though if you have austere monkish clarity in your work, that's OK too.

  

I see in writing this, it is not only intensity, but also extremes. I like the intensity of authentic emotional extremes, or the expression of profound feeling states in pure forms, and genius forms. The later Turner. Francis Bacon, the Expressionists. The Academy holds little of worth for me. I love the German Expressionists, except one, whose name is Ernst Barlach. His work was too blunted by technical accomplishment, weak compared to the others. Later I found out they were all self-taught, except for him. He went to art school! Diluted I guess would be the word. Here is a prose/poem, or whatever, containing the verbal equivalent of an objet trouve, which I have been wanting to write, and this current of thought has given me the chance.

  

The Man In The Movie.

   

"I saw a man in a movie last week, shown by a group of European Doctors,

who were documenting non-traditional healings.

         

He had been healed of the stomach cancer that grew inside him,

after his return home from the Second World War.

                   

A simple uneducated man, with the demeanor of a clerical, factory or farm worker.

He explained slowly, thoughtfully, eyes dulled in recall, his mien somber,

something like this -

                   

"I was sick.. when I came back from the war...

We were all sick when we came home from the war...

                

We had to shoot at people and try to kill them,

That's.. not normal.

                 

We had to because.. they would shoot at us,

..and try to kill us.

..And that's.. not normal....

                  

Every day, our lives were hanging by a thread.

That's.. not normal.

                     

Every day we lived with one foot in the grave.

..And that's not normal....

                         

We were all sick..  when we came home from the war."

                       

Then, returning to speak of his healing and current life, transformed,

he lit up, with an inner radiant glow.

Totally present in his present, dazzling illumination from within,

from the grateful joy of his surviving spirit.

                                        

I was stunned, staggered, flabbergasted. The purity of his profundity,

the simple power and dignity of his rhythmic truth,

                           

And watching.. I thought to myself,

                                

"Here is a man, a person, a human being, deserving of my highest respect,

for his breadth, his depth, his stature as a witness,

to all he has lived and seen,

to all he has lived and been.”

               

I would prefer the words of this man to the most polished effusions of any poet,

that do not touch my heart, or move my soul.

                            

c. Brian Green Los Angeles 08/2014

 

                       

Well, well, well. Phone call this morning from a TV producer, making a show for a National TV station, wanting me to be an expert vis a vis certain psychological processes and their relationship with Hypnosis & Hypnotherapy. He said, "I heard when you did your work on the Discovery Channel, (which I have never seen) that you were a delight to work with." Look out Dr Phil, here I come! Further updates as we proceed.