In April 2014 I moved to Columbia, S.C. and will be serving clients in the Southeastern U.S. From Columbia, it’s easy to get anywhere in South Carolina for sessions. North Carolina and Georgia are also easy locations. When you contact me for a session, please just pick a nice day for a motorcycle ride …. (heh-heh).
I’ve often thought that my ideal home would be 38′ long and have six wheels under it. And a spare-tire cover with “Honk if you want to be hypnotized” on it. A Rest Area along an Interstate would be perfect for a session, wouldn’t it?
I’ll always remember a session I did in Columbia about 20 years ago. My client turned out to be a great hypnosis subject, as many are. After the “regular” (if there is such a thing as “regular”) hypnotherapy session was complete, I knew that her friend and she were anxious to step out onto the patio for a smoke. Before they could do that, I asked if we could have some fun, and she agreed.
I re-hypnotized her, using a post-hypnotic suggestion that I always include. I told her that, when she returned to a full state of alertness, she would not be able to say her first name. Then “3-2-1-wake up”, after which I explained that I was really bad with names and, although I’d been at her home for 1½ hours, I could not remember her name. Then I asked if she would tell me her first name.
“Sure,” she said. “It’s S – – . It’s S —. I can’t say my name!”
I re-hypnotized her, and then I told her she’d be unable to count to “10” when she opened her eyes. “3-2-1-wake up.”
When I asked her to count to “10”, she couldn’t. And then I re-hypnotized her (it only took seconds), and I told her she couldn’t say the alphabet. Sure enough, she couldn’t.
“One more time?” I asked.
She agreed and, after she was quickly hypnotized again, I told her that, if she were holding a cigarette, her arms would be so short she couldn’t reach her mouth. “3-2-1-wake up.”
Her friend and she grabbed their cigarettes and went to the patio. Her friend lit right up, but my client was holding her cigarette just under her chin and trying to get it to her mouth.
“Anything wrong?” I asked.
“No,” she replied.
After a couple of minutes, I asked her again. “Anything wrong.”
“No, everything’s okay.” But she couldn’t get the cigarette to her mouth.
And then she said, “Darn you, put my arms back like they were. I want a cigarette.” And I did.
This illustrates the power of one’s own mind. She had accepted the suggestion that her arms were so short that she couldn’t reach her mouth.
What could you do with the power of your own mind?