When I was near the end of secondary school, what would be called senior high school in some parts of the world, our English teacher assigned us the homework to write an essay. And I was inspired – totally inspired – actually inspired to the point where I didn’t read back over my essay after I scribbled it down because I was convinced that it had come to me in perfect form from the muse herself.
When the teacher handed back the essays, mine had many many corrections and big red question marks. But I was most surprised by the comments at the end, „What is this nonsense? You are such a good writer that it really is a shame to see you produce something like this.“
For about 5 minutes, I was angry that the teacher hadn’t recognized my inspired genius, and then for some reason I felt really good and wanted to write much more. In fact, I even considered becoming a full-time writer.
And for a long time, I thought that my new-found interest in writing was to spite the teacher, to make me able to say „Hah, I showed you – I became a writer.“ And then many years later, I realized what had actually happened. The teacher had criticized my behaviour („what is this nonsense“) while simultaneously praising me at the identity level („you are such a good writer“) and although the Identity level statement passed by my conscious mind, that was what my unconscious mind accepted and it was exactly that statement that made me become much more interested in writing.
Kategorie: Stories
How much therapy does a person need?
First year I joined the faculty at Wayne State Medical School the Dean called me in the first day and said, „Erickson, there is a senior student… when he was a sophomore he lost his leg in an automobile accident. He wears an artificial leg. Before he lost his leg he was an outgoing, sociable personality . . . always friendly, outgoing, a hail-fellow well met. With the fitting of his artificial leg he became withdrawn,lost all of his friends, unresponsive.“
Then the Dean said, „And please don’t say the word ‚leg‘ in his presence. He overreacts to it.“
And I said, „All right, I’ll take care of that.“
I waited ‚til the students got acquainted with me. It took about three weeks. And then I selected Jerry, Tom and Joe. I told them, „You spread the word that I’m going to pull one of my, uh, classical pranks. And you don’t know what it IS. Just spread the rumor that Erickson is up to something.“
And the next Monday morning, „Jerry, you go to the fourth floor and hold the elevator up there. And Tom you stand at the head of the stairwell and look down on the ground floor. And Joe you be on the ground floor pressing the elevator button and cussing because the janitor is keeping the elevator up so he could get his mops and pails down.“
The rumor having been spread, of course EVERYBODY was there at 7:30 . . . even as I was. And I walked in, acted surprised to see them all at 7:30. We stated a few words of chit chat about the weather, I said, „Why don’t you punch the elevator button Joe?“
Joe said, „That damn janitor is keeping it up on the fourth floor I suspect. He is worried about getting his mops and pails down.“
Still further chit chat, began to suggest to Joe he push the elevator button.
And at about five minutes to eight the lights lit up on the second floor. I turned to this hyper-sensitive student with an artificial leg off in one corner and I said, „Let’s us cripples hobble up stairs and leave the able-bodied to wait for the elevator.“
So us cripples started hobbling upstairs. Tom saw us, signaled Jerry, Jerry released the elevator, the rest of the class came up on the elevator.
At the end of the hour that withdrawn student had resumed his social attitude. All I had done was alter the way he LOOKED at things. The way he SAW himself. I lifted him out of the status of a cripple and I identified him with a professor who ALSO had a limp. That gave him a new status.
The Japanese master
A great Japanese master received a university professor who came to enquire about wisdom. The master served tea. He poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept on pouring.
The professor watched the overflow until he could no longer restrain himself. ‚It is overfull. No more will go in!‘ ‚Like this cup,‘ the master said, ‚you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you wisdom unless you first empty your cup?‘
On a flight to Florida, I was preparing my notes for one of the parent education seminars I conduct as an educational psychologist. The elderly woman sitting next to me explained that she was returning to Miami after having spent two weeks visiting her six children, 18 grandchildren and ten great grandchildren in Boston. Then she inquired what I did for a living. I told her, fully expecting her to question me for free professional advice.
She sat back and said, „If there’s anything you want to know, just ask me.“
That you can learn to reproduce in your own behavior the technology of Dr. Erickson’s work is not to say that you will become Milton Erickson by virtue of that technology.
The choices that you make when selecting the content to be employed by that technology will be your own, characteristic of you and your personal history, just as Erickson’s choice of content is the unique result of his personal history.
The anology is one of learning carpentry—a master cabinet maker can teach you to use woodworking tools and techniques as skillfuly as he does, but the pieces of furniture that you go on to make with those skills will be a function of your own aesthetics.
Erickson was returning from school one day and a runaway horse with a bridle on sped past him into a farmer’s yard looking for a drink of water. The horse was perspiring heavily. And the farmer didn’t recognize it so we cornered it.
Erickson hopped on the horse’s back. Since it had a bridle on, Erickson took hold of the tick rein and said, „Giddy-up.“
Headed for the road, Erickson knew the horse would turn in the right direction. He didn’t know what the right direction was.
And the horse trotted and galloped along.
Now and then the horse would forget he was on the highway and start into a field.
So Erickson would pull on him a bit and call his attention to the fact the highway was where he was supposed to be.
And finally, about four miles from where Erickson had boarded him, the horse turned into a farm yard and the farmer said, „So the runaway has come back. Where did you find him?“
Erickson said, „About four miles from here.“
„How did you know you should come here?“
Erickson said, „I didn’t know. The horse knew. All I did was keep his attention on the road.“
A Crow, half-dead with thirst, came upon a Pitcher which had once been full of water; but when the Crow put its beak into the mouth of the Pitcher he found that only very little water was left in it, and that he could not reach far enough down to get at it.
He tried, and he tried, but at last had to give up in despair. Then a thought came to him, and he took a pebble and dropped it into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped it into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher.
Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher.
At last, at last, he saw the water mount up near him, and after casting in a few more pebbles he was able to quench his thirst and save his life.
A doctor told me that six year old Billy sucked his thumb and would I come out to the house and put Billy in a trance and make him stop sucking his thumb? So I made a house call. Billy had been told that Dr. Ericsson was going to come and he was going „to STOP you from sucking your thumb“. And Billy was very antagonistic towards me. I turned to the doctor’s wife and said
„Now, Billy is MY patient, and Mother you are a nurse and you know a nurse should not interfere with a doctor’s orders. And Doctor, you’re a physician and you know you don’t interfere with another doctor’s patient.“ They were sitting there rather startled and I said, „Billy, I have something to say to you. Your father and mother wanted me to come out here and put you in trance and make you stop sucking your thumb. But Billy, EVERY six year old boy, EVERY six year old girl is entitled to suck their thumbs as much as they want to. Of course, the day is£OMING when you’ll be a big seven year old and you won’t want to suck your thumb when you’re a big kid, seven years old. As long as you’re a little kid and want to suck yourself I want you to keep sucking your thumb.“ Billy looked very happy—his parents rather bewildered. Billy’s birthday was coming up in less than two months and two months is a long, long time for a six year old kid. And Billy stopped sucking his thumb BEFORE he got to be a big seven year old. Why shouldn’t he
I told a lawyer that I wanted him to climb Squaw Peak and take his four year old son along with him. He said, „You want me to carry four year old David up the mountain?“ I said, „No … I want you and David to climb Squaw Peak, and what YOU’RE climbing for is to get an education . . . and come in tomorrow and tell me about your education.“ He came in the next day feeling very sheepish. He said, „I got my education. I was pooped before I was halfway up, and David was making side trips here and side trips there and kept yelling at me ‚Hurry up, Daddy, hurry up!‘ “ I said, „In other words, haven’t you been a little bit overprotective of that child?“ He said, „I sure have. He can handle himself better than I can handle MYSELF.
It is said that Thomas Edison tried three thousand different materials in search of the perfect material for the filament of his light bulb. When none worked satisfactorily, his assistant complained, “All our work is in vain. We have learned nothing.”
Edison replied very confidently, “Oh, we have come a long way and we have learned a lot. We know that there are two thousand elements which we cannot use to make a good light bulb.”