Berichte und Informationen zum Prozess
		One week to change your life (Charles Wright)

. . . . . .. . .. . .. ..	Download (Berichte und Informationen zum Prozess) Charles Wright One week to change your life In the same way as surgery transformed the ancient practice of medicine, the Hoffman Process represents a revolution in the field of psychotherapy. We have come to expect from the traditional application of psychology - a field in which there are as many so-called "cures" as there are ills - that true and lasting change occurs only after years of painstaking analy-sis and painful self-examination. The suggestion that people can transform their lives, can recognise and begin to repair the most debilitation flaws in their personalities in one short, but intense week of work, seems absurd. and yet the experience of thousands of people who have completed the Hoffman Process is that it works, that it works quickly, and more significantly, that it lasts. It promises no miracles - it takes time and effort to consolidate the initial breakthrough - but the overwhelming majority of graduates report a new commitment to positive change, and an increasing sense of well-being over the years. The genius of the Hoffman process has been hailed by some of the world's most well-known and respected therapists - among them the late Virginia Satir and Claudio Naranjo - by doctors, lawyers, businessmen, by priests, nuns and rabbis, by men and women just like ourselves in the United States and Europe, South A-merica and Australia, whose personal lives and careers have been enriched by the techniques they have learned in one remarkable week. A Sydney therapist, Marie Burrows, who had been working in the field of Primal therapy for several years, gave up her practice shortly after she completed the Hoffman Process last year. "I decided," she says, "that the sort of change I experienced was available to people so quickly, then the work I was doing was not e-nough." Burrows referred her clients to the Process, and has recently begun training with the Hoffman Insti-tute to become a teacher. Sister Ambrose Stachine, Provincial Superior in Canada for the Sister Servants of Mary Immaculate, an in-ternational Catholic order, completed the Hoffman Process two years ago, and has since sent more than 20 nuns to do the same work. An Australian Catholic order, the Sisters of the Good Samaritans, has recently had three nuns complete the Process, and intends to send others who can benefit from the experience. "There are a lot of therapies available," says Sister Ambrose, "but they don't take it to the same depths, are not as thorough and all encompassing as the Hoffman Process. I was very impressed with the way they were able to incorporate so many aspects of the therapeutic process into one whole system and get the depth they did. Others go so far, but they don't take it to the end. I have continued using the techniques, and continue to benefit from them." Those techniques, adapted and refined over 25 years of experience and research, allow people to root out the source of a lifetime of neurosis, to safely express rage and frustration, and to experience what might best be described as an epiphany. Somewhere within themselves they find compassion, self-acceptance and self-love - the foundation of true maturity. By continuing to use the tools they have learned, Hoffman Process graduates have been able to break the most pernicious habits, ranging from drug addiction and alcoholism to the petty but repetitive disorders that blight relationships at home and in the workplace. Despite all the insights of Freud and Jung and those who followed them, little seems to have changed in the minds of men since Thoreau observed, more than 100 years ago, that "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." Our society is in the grip of a profound and enduring depression, punctuated by acts of despe-ration that are often anything but quiet. At the heart of that sad condition is something Bob Hoffman, who first developed the Process, call "negative love". It is a conceptual, equivalent to Freud's repetition compulsion, or the Buddhist law of Karma. Negative love, says Hoffman, is the reason we doggedly repeat self-destructive behaviour patterns, in the face of serial disasters. It begins in childhood, when we learn firstly that our parent's love is critical to our survival, and secondly, through a series of painful emotional shocks, that our parent's love is conditional, and that we must mould our behaviour, moods and beliefs, to their specifications. We take on inflections, gestu-res, attitudes - whole patterns of behaviour - so that Mommy and Daddy will love us. Some of us recreate our parents with stunning adroitness, some of us mount insurrections, most of us har-bour, deep within ourselves, however we try to disguise it, a smouldering rage against our parents for not allowing us the freedom to be ourselves. Whatever intellectual illumination we develop, we retain the emotional shadows of our childhood, and when we explore the new territory of our adult lives, we are unconsciously guided by the old, and generally i-nappropriate maps of infancy. This is the root of what psychologists call "transference" - the unconscious assignment to the people we meet in adult life, of feeling and attitudes originally associated with parents and siblings. In fact we create entire worlds of people in the image of Mommy and Daddy. A certain tone of voice, the ex-pression on someone's face may trigger a childhood memory of Mom or Dad, and institute an immediate, conditioned, but irrational response. We may think we are engaged in normal, social intercourse with these people. But what we are actually ne-gotiating for is our parents' love. Given that neither party is consciously aware of the real agenda, these are rarely satisfactory transactions. Hoffman's scenarios of the negative love model are distressingly familiar. If Daddy was an ambitious, driving businessman, a workaholic, say, with little conscience and little need for family life, we might live our own lives in his precise, arid image, we might rebel or course, and in doing so establish a lifetime program for failure and sentimentality. Alternatively, we might punish ourselves persistently for never meeting Daddy's standards, endlessly replaying his accusations, denying ourselves love and any sense of peace. We might prepare, like Prufrock, "a face to meet the faces that we meet," but however we adjust and perfect them, they remain it seems remarkably like those of our parents. We give only the impression of spontaneity. Actually we are victims of compulsion. The Process works because it breaks these compulsive neurological patterns by catharsis, then provides the tools to create new, more appropriate behav-iour patterns. Those tools utilise the results of neurological research which shows how the brain works, and how we actually learn. Hoffman's theory - and thousands of people have been shocked to discover this is the fact - is that we are not one self, but a loose collective of selves which are often engaged in a struggle for power that is not unlike guerrilla warfare. The integration of the warring factions - intellectual, emotional, spiritual and physical - which is achieved in the Process, is reflected in better external relationships. One of the major achievements of the Process is that it reunites parents with their children, brothers and sisters with their siblings, sometimes resulting in se-veral generations of the family completing the Process. As we recognise our own conditioning, we see how others, including our parents, are equally conditioned, equally victimised, equally blameless. nach oben