store of memories

Store of Memories

Leaving things behind

Some metaphors are designed to be wandering and formless, with no overt message. The idea is that the client's subconscious will examine different aspects of the metaphor and try to make sense of unrelated elements. By doing so the client will find some aspect that will match their specific subconscious concerns, which even they might not be aware of. These metaphors work particularly well if delivered as a story in hypnosis. Introspection metaphors give the therapist a tool to use when the client has only the vaguest idea of what is troubling them.

This metaphor deals with childhood memories and leaving things behind, but is non-directive and allows the client to identify with their own memories through the senses of sight, sound and touch. The second paragraph can be expanded to become a metaphor induction.

Store of Memories

A few years ago, a friend of mine, about your age, received an unexpected letter in the post. It had been redirected from several old addresses and had unusual stamps on it. I wonder if you collected stamps as a child, or maybe you knew someone who collected stamps?..... The stamps on the envelope were the old fashioned kind, engraved, if you look closely you see the image is cleverly made up of lines and dots. You can run your finger over the image and feel the raised ink. Maybe you remember stamps like that?

The letter was from the office of a country lawyer. A distant relative had passed on and there was something in the will. The letter didn't say what it was, but did say where to find it.... So my friend got.... ready to go on a journey. Imagine how it was.... on a train or a bus... It's hard to remember details sometimes... The journey was slow.... but the seat was comfortable.... very comfortable.... and my friend's thoughts started to drift away... the hum of the engine.... the rattle of the wheels.... the slow and gentle click-clack, click-clack.... matching the breathing.... the way each breath makes you more relaxed.... more at ease.... you can imagine what it was like.... the gentle swaying in the seat.... the warm afternoon air.... soft light through the windows... scenery drifting by silently .... breathing gently.... just letting the seat carry you along.... its easy to just drift away.... just let go and relax totally.... enjoying that feeling of comfort and ease.... settle down in the seat... now...

and maybe it was a dream and maybe it was real.... sometimes its hard to know... they came to a stop, near a river, I think.... the doors opened..... Getting out.... looking around.... the whole place deserted.... it was late afternoon... the heat was heavy.... over by the side was the place mentioned in the will.... it looked like an old country store.... a faded wooden building... almost falling down.... settled down quietly in the afternoon air as it had for years.... lying motionless by the cool side of the river... as if it was waiting..... slumbering on through those long days.... peaceful and relaxed....

and inside... afternoon sun sloping in through dirty windows... golden specks dancing in sunbeams.... and around the walls.... cabinets... shelves and drawers.... an old counter.... an empty cash register...

In one cabinet you pull out a drawer.... it is full of glass.... lenses.... spectacles... magnifying glasses.... mirrors.... crystals... and as the sun catches the open drawer the whole room glows with reflected light.... rainbows sparkle off the walls.... yellow reflections on the ceiling.... strange shapes and shadows appear....

in another drawer there is a jumble of keys.... delicate brass keys... huge iron door keys.... a silver key on a chain.... hundreds and hundreds of keys... all mixed up.... and in a corner, hanging.... is a brass bird cage...

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

The rest of this metaphor is in the collection

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So my friend found an old sack.... and filled it with some things... that would be useful... I wonder what you would take?.... and what you would leave behind.....

My friend woke up later on that same seat..... unsure of exactly what had happened.... but knowing something had.....

My friend kept the stamps... and still looks at them now and again.....

You see, what makes a good collection is not how many, but what you choose to discard...

.... like memories, really.

 

 

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