Change or Die

I loved Alan Deutschman's article "Change or Die" when it ran in Fast Company, and I love the book he expanded the article into: Change or Die: The Three Keys to Change in Work and in Life.

In 2004, Deutschman attended a conference to explore solutions to the world's biggest problems. A dream of experts who spoke on health care said, "A relatively small percentage of the population consumes the vast majority of the health-care budget for diseases that are very well known and by and large behavioral."

Smoking. Drinking. Eating unhealthily. Stress. Not enough exercise.

And only 1 in 10 given the "change or die" choice changed their behavior.

Deutschman spends the bulk of his book examining the components of successful change. It is possible to change the way you think, feel, and act. Deutschman identifies three motivators that don't work -- fear, facts, and force -- and three that do -- relationships, reframing, and repeating. He uses three major case studies and a number of others to illustrate these principles and describes how individuals and organizations can use these processes to make deep-seated, lasting changes.

In clear, practical language, Deutschman explains important tools for change:

• Frames
  
• Denial and other psychological defenses
• Short-term wins
• Community and culture
• Acting as if
• Recasting a life story
• Walk the walk
• The brain is plastic
• The solution might be the problem

Giving people hope is far more important than giving them facts, says Deutschman. Then give them the skills they need and help them practice, practice, practice.

Nothing in the book is really groundbreaking (Deutschman himself points out that the patterns for successful change have been known for decades), and I think his model is simplistic at times, but that's part of what I enjoy about the book. Deutschman takes a range of change models and in clear, direct language synthesizes their mutual and most powerful elements in a practical handbook for change. For me, the real strength of Change or Die is that simplicity.

Steve's story

In the September 2008 issue of The Journal of Hypnotism, there's a brilliant article by Stephen Greco in John Weir's column on "Enthusiastic Professionalism."

Steve was 22 years old when he awoke one morning with a tiny blind spot in his right eye that quickly grew until he was 80 percent blind in that eye. The doctors did tests, diagnosed probable multiple sclerosis, and asked if he had any tingling or numbness in his limbs. He became watchful for those symptoms, which soon manifested. Steve had been avoiding further tests, but when is arms became weak, he called the doctor.

"Both arms?" asked the doctor.

"Yes," said Steve.

"It's usually one arm at a time," said the doctor.

Immediately, Steve says, his life changed. He thought, "If he had told me that it was going to be one arm at a time, it would have been." The power of suggestion had done a number on him.

Steve began to systematically dismantle all the negative suggestions he'd been given (and had been giving himself!) and within two weeks, his eyesight returned to normal.

I tell this story to people to illustrate the power of expectation, suggestion, and belief. What we expect tends to be realized.

But often, people respond to this story with disbelief and analysis. "You mean it was all in his head?" As though it were imaginary blindness. As though somehow an illness created by the mind were less measurable by objective standards.

In 1982, in my home town of Monterey Park, California, a few people fell mildly ill at a high school football game and after being questioned by authorities, an announcement was made that no one should drink any soft drinks because of suspected contamination. Immediately, the stands were filled with fainting, retching people. One hundred and ninety-one persons were hospitalized.

There was nothing wrong with the soda. It was a case of "mass hysteria," which does not mean symptoms were imaginary. It means the symptoms were stimulated by mental processes instead of physical ones.

Many people think "in the mind" means "not real." Steve's story makes clear this isn't the case at all. Placebos operate on the same principle. Recovery after taking a placebo doesn't mean the illness was imagined or the recovery was imagined.

I once had a severely sprained ankle just days before I was supposed to drive to Seattle (with a standard transmission). I was desperate to go. I used a hypnotic process and the swelling and discoloration subsided enough that I could drive. (I once had a person look at me skeptically and say, "You'll forgive me if I don't believe you." Sure, dude. No problem. For me.)

Everything starts in the mind. Whatever you're sitting on -- started as an idea. The computer you're typing on. The TV programs you watch, the books you read, the people you interact with -- all a product of thought. Change your mind and change your life!

Is it real, or is it satisfying?

The brain can't tell the difference between a real experience and one that is vividly, fully imagined.

That's right. The brain processes the thoughts identically. Especially in hypnosis, when a person is told they're hearing a sound, the same part of their brain lights up on an fMRI as when they're actually hearing the sound.

In the June 2008 issue of The Journal of Hypnotism, Richarde Harte, FNGH, OB, in his column "The Heart of Hypnosis," writes about how he lost weight by satisfying cravings with hypnosis.

As a pizza aficianado, he had put on some pounds. There was a yummy pizza take-out joint near his office, and after stopping in (too frequently) for a quick and easy lunch, he'd gained a belly more suited to Santa than a hypnotist.

So he began eating a hypno-pizza whenever he got a craving. Dropped himself into a trance, imagined eating a delicious slice of pizza, slowly savoring every bite, amplifying the experience to a high level of satisfaction, and then, when he was done, ate a salad.

He lost weight and didn't deprive himself.

It works with other stuff, too. Smoking, desserts, morning coffee... give it a try! The key is a vivid, fully imagined experience, with lots of sensory details. Take your time. Let me know how it goes.

Happy Thanksgiving!

It's Thanksgiving morning in the USA, and in Portland, Oregon, it's a cloudless, sunny (if cold) morning. A seagull just flew overhead, rosy in the rising sun. Glorious.

Michael Hall has developed a wonderful exercise he teaches in his Accessing Personal Genius seminar. I think it's appropriate for Thanksgiving, because it sets up a sliding anchor for acceptance, appreciation, and awe. Here's a summary.

(If you want to learn how to do this exercise on your own, without a partner, and to learn more about Michael's work, pick up his book, Secrets of Personal Mastery, visit his Web site at Neurosemantics.com, or attend one of his excellent seminars.)

Get a partner. Extend your arm, palm up. Figure out whether you are an "innie" or an "outie" by having your partner slide their finger up the inside of your arm from wrist to elbow crease. Then have them slide their finger the opposite way, from elbow crease to wrist. Does the intensity of sensation rise as they move their finger up your arm, toward you? Then you're an innie. Out and away? You're an outie.

Next, you're going to access (recall and get into), amplify, and anchor a state.

Recall (access) a time when you simply accepted something. Maybe it was that it was a rainy day and you had to take the bus. Maybe you chose to eat breakfast because you knew it was best even if you weren't terribly hungry at the time. Maybe it was scraping ice off the car before you got in and drove away. Mere acceptance.

Now that you've accessed that state of acceptance, amplify it. Build it up so it flows through you; step into it, breathe it in, pull it in and around you so you're actually experiencing it fully.

Anchor it. When it's at its peak, have your friend touch the lower end of the intensity spectrum on your arm. Apply some pressure so you can trigger the state at will later on by applying the same pressure in the same place.

That's it: Access, Amplify, Anchor.

Following the same process for appreciation, now work with the state of appreciation, and access a time you appreciated something or someone. Amplify it. Create this anchor at the midpoint of the intensity spectrum on your arm, halfway between the wrist and the elbow crease.

Same process, this time for awe. Access, amplify, then create this anchor at the high intensity point (your elbow crease, if you're an innie, or your wrist, if you're an outie).

Now have your friend slide their finger along the spectrum to move from acceptance to awe. You've built a sliding anchor and you can use it to help you change your state. Is there something you'd like to really appreciate rather than just accept? Is there something you've felt awed by, but milder appreciation would let you behave more effectively?

There is plenty to inspire awe. Einstein said, "There are two ways to live: You can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle."

Happy Thanksgiving!

New Blogger Friend

I met a wonderful woman over the weekend and I've updated my blogroll to include her. She's a Pacific Northwesterner (Seattle), a science fiction fan, and a freelance writer. She took a look at herself awhile ago and decided she could do better, so she started remakng herself: eating right, working out, and putting self-care a little higher on her priority list.

My friend Tom -- someone I've known 25 years, whom I trust and love and laugh a lot with -- introduced us, and he's thrived by knowing her.

I mentioned a couple of resources to her and she asked me to remind her via e-mail, but I thought I'd mention those resources here, too.

I've never struggled with my weight, but I've always struggled with my body. I had childhood asthma, and I spent weeks in bed barely able to breathe. Any kind of exertion could trigger it, so I wheezed and panted my way through P.E. at school, hating anything that had to do with getting my heart rate up or breathing hard.

I discovered dancing in high school and fell passionately in love with it. I had a friend who choreographed moves for us and she was a great teacher. Later in life, I discovered Regency dancing and contra dancing, and that was my exercise of choice until I moved to Portland.

Then, I ballooned to 220 lbs. I wasn't a kid anymore, and I hadn't integrated into any of the dance communities. My habits needed to change.

There are tons of diet and exercise books. Here are a couple of my favorites.

Peggy Brill. Peggy has two fantastic books. The Core Program teaches you to build strength and flexibility in the large core muscles that support all the other muscles of your body. Brill is a physical therapist who works with people who have pain and limited range of motion, so these exercises are terrific for anyone who wants to start slow. The basic core exercises can be done in 15 minutes a day, which also makes it perfect for busy people who "don't have time to exercise." Get a mat, or a thick blanket, and you're ready to go.

Her other book is Instant Relief: Tell Me Where It Hurts and I'll Show You What to Do. Chapters are broken down by body area, and she lists simple calisthenics and stretches to build strength and flexibility, improve range of motion, and relieve pain.

The other books I love are written by Bill Phillips, Body for LIFE, Eat for LIFE, and the soon-to-be-released Transformation. Phillips is a bodybuilder and publisher, and his film Body of Work is profoundly inspirational, as is his new half-hour program at Transformation.com. The people he's inspired are the real sources of inspiration, though -- ordinary moms, dads, bartenders, accountants.

The exercises Phillips describes are simple and can be done at home with dumbbells. If your jaw doesn't drop when you see what can be accomplished in just 12 weeks, check your pulse.

Tom and my new friend also recommended a book by Alan Deutschman called Change or Die about how to overcome old habits. Review forthcoming. The title comes from a study of heart patients who were told their unhealthy lifestyles needed to change or it would kill them. 90% couldn't break their old habits. It can be done, though. With a big enough why, you can always find a how.

Book Review: Your Brain: The Missing Manual

I just finished a great book in a great series: Your Brain: The Missing Manual, by Matthew MacDonald. The O'Reilly Missing Manual series -- like their In a Nutshell series -- is a wonderful set of books that covers topics from Office to iPhoto to Vista in a fun, often funny, succinct, and useful way. It's all the stuff you ought to know (but often don't) that makes work easier and faster.

And as a hypnotist, I love fast and easy.

In Your Brain: The Missing Manual, you'll learn about the shortcuts your brain takes to make life easier for you, and how that can end up making life harder. You'll learn tips to work around the shortcuts. Modern life, with 24-hour stimulation and a bazillion cultural differences, has created an environment far more complicated than the environment the brain originated in. Sure, we're adapting. But if you know how your brain is wired, you'll adapt a bit better.

One of my favorite chapters is about how the brain processes pleasure, because the pleasure is one of the power sources that drives behavior change.

First, pleasure is, by design, short-lived. Your brain is wired to turn it off, as well as on. Why? Well, if pleasure lasted a long time, you'd get stuck in one place, soaking up wonderfulness, a sitting duck for some predator. Also, pleasure is a motivator, and motivators are more motivating if they're in short supply. The brain gets accustomed to prolonged pleasure and starts filtering it out, so the same stimulus doesn't give you the same kick.

Research shows that the first two bites of food are the most intense. After that, pleasure decreases. Your brain starts to habituate to the flavor (i.e., ignore the sensations).

As humans, we don't seek things or experiences, not really. We seek the pleasure they provide. And pleasure is hard-wired to diminish with exposure. There's always a saturation point.

But modern culture and the messages of more, better, faster try to convince us that more, better, faster, are ends in themselves. If one cookie is good, five must be better. That's working against how our brains naturally function. In fact, more, better, faster, are just levels of pleasure that in time we'll become habituated to.

Scientific American Mind (or maybe it was Psychology Today -- I'll have to go look it up) had a nice article last year about techniques for battling boredom. They involved taking control of your expectation and your focus of attention.

So the next time I find myself reaching for that third or fourth cookie, I pause and ask: "Am I really hungry? On a scale of 1 to 10, how much pleasure am I really experiencing right now?" When I remind myself of what's really going on, and how my brain is designed to make things feel less rewarding as I get used to them, it makes it easier to put the food away and wait until another time, when my pleasure will be heightened again. I can find another source of pleasure, like a Sudoku, a warm shower, a phone call to a friend, cleaning out old e-mails, petting the kitties.

Happy Birthday, PST!

Portland Story Theater continues to overdeliver with a terrific troupe of guest storytellers (this time it's Penny Walter returning) and core tellers Lynne Duddy and Lawrence Howard with My Favorite Pair, the opening show of their 2008-09 season. If the gloom of current affairs has you longing for an uplifting night out, look no further than PST's current show.

Opening again for PST is The Tuesday Group, which continues to defy description. Are they singers? dancers? poets? comedians? They describe themselves as "improv," so I'll go with it. They pose and sway in a quirky Cupid's tale of unlikely love and its rocky course as a couple of meddlers chart their course by tangling up a couple of chairs. (Yes, I know. It's weird. It works.)

Lynne Duddy tells about crossing the public/Catholic school divide with the help of a friend, and when that friend disappears, Lynne persists in unraveling the mystery. For me, this was one of those shining moments of story, where a tiny detail -- almost an afterthought -- provides an axis of emotional resonance that rings long after the story's over. It's one of those tales that's personal, universal, and asserts that yes, all the vast forces of the world are indeed conspiring to comfort and sustain us. Lynne's second story, about the peripatetic and sometimes scary life of a young single mom, had a similar mixture of uncertainty and stability. (It also contained one of those odd hallucinations that occasionally pop up in storytelling trances, where I saw something that definitely wasn't there.)

I never suspected Lawrence Howard of being a nerd. I'd never picked up on that facet of him, especially not in his previous stories of camping, fishing, and open-road adventures. (For me, those things are the antithesis of being a nerd.) But no, school cliques identified him as I could not. I laughed as he confessed the parental conspiracy that contributed to his nerdiness (nerdentity?), and I even laughed as he reached that zenith of bully-targeted terror that had me horrified beneath my giggles. (It's really hard for me to listen to stories of school taunting and not have flashbacks.) His second story focused on his romance with the martial arts. I would have doubted the choice in the hands of a lesser talent, but Lawrence has a singular voice and obstinant refusal to set foot into cliched territory.

When I first heard Penny Walter at her last appearance with PST, she did what I thought was impossible: She made me care about athletes. This time around, her stories were just as far removed from my own experiences (how could anyone not like standardized tests?) and just as astonishing. Her tale of a scheming younger self with a roller-skate fetish made me think that even Winston Churchhill -- "Never, never give in!" -- might have quailed before her. She also closes the evening with a story that reminded me of G.B. Shaw's warning that there are two great tragedies in life: Not to get your heart's desire, and to get it. Penny describes a dream come true, the unforeseen consequences, and how a dream moment in a sweat lodge carried the guidance she needed to turn things around.

The show runs another two weekends (Fri and Sat through Nov 8), with special Halloween pricing (come as a pair for $20 for two tickets on 10/31 and 11/1) and a prize giveaway. (Go to their Web site and sign up for their newsletter to learn about cool stuff like this!) Plenty of opportunities to see them again. And if you've never seen them, it's about time you do.