This section is from the book "Reichian Therapy. The Technique, for Home Use", by Jack Willis. Also available as a hardcopy from Amazon.com.
If the fact of definitions, if, perhaps, not in the formal sense described above, is generally well known, the metaphorical nature of language is not as well recognized. The metaphorical nature of language is currently a topic of considerable academic interest (Lakoff & Johnson, 1980; Lakoff, 1987). Communication, in fact language, without metaphor would be impossible. But, for all the necessity of metaphor, it is also prone to gross misuse. In the field of body therapy, to keep to that, Lowen bases his whole theory of grounding on metaphor. In doing so he erroneously converts metaphor into a statement of reality rather than what it is: a device of communicative language.
Reich, of course, does the same thing in translating, after
Freud, the words: flow, energy, dam up (or block), character, etc. from the metaphor they were into statements of fact (that is, statements about reality). As we will see when I discuss defenses, Reich also made another all too common error of using a relatively well defined word in a completely new context (i.e. with a completely different definition) without either redefining the word (a perfectly acceptable operation) or probably even realizing that he was changing the definition of the word.
It is crucial in critical thinking that both the metaphorical use of a word and the connotative versus denotative use of a word be ever present in the forefront of one's thinking.
Footnote 77. Personal communication via email from Dr. Steven Pinker.
Footnote 78. Reich also had the unfortunate habit of repeatedly using words that were totally undefined (e.g. "functional thinking") or making up new terms for well defined concepts (e.g. "work democracy").
Consider how, in every culture, we go about teaching our young children the meaning of words. Irrespective of where one starts, whether it is things or animals or parts of the body we point to it and say the word, subsequently quizzing the child with "show me ......" (your nose, the dog, the table, etc.). The general and crucial principle is that things that are purely sensory can only be defined ostensively. Can you image trying to give a formal (genus and differentia) definition of the color: mauve. Or a formal definition of D flat as opposed to D natural on the piano. One could formulate, and a dictionary does, a formal definition of the word "nose" but think about the range of concepts which underlie any attempt at a formal definition of the word "nose." The child might well be nine years old before he could begin to learn the word "nose" if we had only formal definitions to call upon. But pointing to it or touching it (a form of pointing) and saying the word "nose" and the child has it down by age two.
But there is a better example available to us of this issue and how important it is to the process of self-understanding in therapy (here, Reichian therapy). Throughout this book I have spoken about the 'ah' sound. Perhaps you have, or think you have, some idea of what that sound sounds like. But you will have no question of what it sounds like when you listen to the audio that goes with this book. You will then have an ostensive definition of that sound. Or take, as similar examples, when I was discussing the moan and groan sounds (page 109). There I even used the dictionary and, as you may recall, it was little help. But listen to the audio and you will know the sound; ostensive definition. Any concept which applies to sensory data can only be defined ostensively.
Now there are three crucial issues involved here which bear directly on the whole process of therapy (whether verbal or body-based therapy).
The fist issue is that all important emotive words are only defined ostensively.
The second issue is that children have a poverty of language. The third issue is that the ostensive vocabulary of a child is a function of the ostensive vocabulary of the parents and of the capability of emotive empathy by those parents.
Emotions are internal experiences. They are not only sensory and thus have to be defined ostensively; they are a particular kind of sensory experience: they are a private sensory experience. When we define the word "red" to a child by pointing to it, we have a shared sensory experience; it is publicly verifiable. Not so with emotions. How does a child learn what "shame" feels like? How about sad, happy, lonely, bored, unhappy, homesick, guilty, anxious; the list could extend over nearly the whole of those over 550 emotive words in the English language.
The emotion-word vocabulary of any given individual becomes a major factor in a therapy process. Whether it is a self-directed therapy process as in this book or a formal therapy process with a therapist, the process depends on the vocabulary of the person having the experience. And that vocabulary, in turn, depends on the degree to which they have been taught these words and, even more, the extent to which what they have been taught is conformant to the common cultural definition.
This last issue, the validity of an emotive vocabulary, becomes particularly problematic in self-exploration (whether formal or informal). Consider the issue in normal vocabulary. If you do not know the meaning of a word, you can go to a dictionary. If you think you know the definition of a word, but your definition is wrong, perhaps someone will correct your misuse of the word. But none of that exploration or correction can occur for emotions, for words that can only be defined ostensively. Even if, one adult to another, someone says "gee, that must make you sad," the person hearing that statement relates the word to his internal felt state. If, previously, by the parents, that particular state has been given a different label (definition), then one is likely to get an answer such as "no, not really" (for him, this emotive state is called futile not sad). The difficulty with emotive ostensive definitions, different from all other ostensive definitions, is that once a state is mis-identified (mis-defined) it is almost impossible to correct that wrong definition.
Footnote 79. The correct word here is not emotion, it is feeling. I will correct that mis-use of the word shortly. I raise the issue here since the confusion of emotion with feeling is a rampant error in books on body-based psychotherapy.
Genetically, by our nature as humans, we have built into our brains modules whose task it is to acquire language and syntax (Gazzaniga & Heatherton, 2003; Pinker, 1994). All children in all cultures acquire vocabulary, syntax, and semantics in the same way and in the same order. Obviously they start with nothing and by age five have a vocabulary of roughly 2,000 words. However, how many of those words are words for things or actions as opposed to words for emotive states? It is far easier to learn the correct meaning, and to check the accuracy of that meaning, for words that are inter-verifiable than it is for emotive words. Here the child's poverty of language can, and often does, extend throughout life. This is even more true if the parents have a poverty of language. A parent can not teach what the parent does not know. Moreover, as noted, if the parent has a mis-identification of an emotive word that wrong definition will be passed on to the child; with no way to check or discover that the child (adult) has a wrong definition.
That acquisition of definitions of emotive words depends on the willingness, sensitivity, and relatedness of the parents to the child. The parent teaches the child the definition of emotive words by reading the child's body language, knowing something of the circumstances, judging what the child is thinking, and having sufficient empathy to the child's world that the parent is aware of the emotional state and is willing to name it.
Thus parents say to the child things like "you look sad", "does that make you unhappy?", "does that scare you?" etc. Thus the child's internal state is given a word label by the parent; that is, this sensory experience is defined for the child by the parents statement.
But, like parents teaching a normal vocabulary, irrespective of the ability of the parent to emulate the child's emotive experience, they can not name (define) any emotion if it is not part of the parent's vocabulary to begin with.
As someone who is a practicing therapist, the extent to which people actually have a poverty of language in reference to emotive words never fails to surprise me. This happened just two days ago. Looking at a patient on the couch, I said (commenting on his facial expression) "that looks like anguish." His response was: "what is 'anguish?'" Whether I was right or wrong in my judgment of his feeling state, he had no referent for what I had said. The feeling of anguish had never been defined for him.
In dealing with character, and especially in dealing with emotions that are associated with childhood experience, the fact that the child and now the adult has no vocabulary with which to identify or communicate the emotion is of considerable importance. It is to be appreciated that while memory storage of events is ideographic (i.e. pictorial) the accompanying thoughts and emotions are stored linguistically. Lacking the necessary vocabulary, the meaning of the event or the thoughts that occurred concurrent with the event and which go to create the character are not only usually wrong (by reason of the child's limited knowledge and limited cognitive ability) but also are often mis-identified by reason of the poverty of language.
The implication of this fact — that you, too, might have an unknown poverty of language — will become important subsequently when I discuss cognitive self-study.
The idea of defenses started well before Freud, but it was he and his colleagues, especially his daughter, Anna Freud, who elaborated on the concept (Freud, A., 1936/1962; Laughlin, 1979). There is no universally accepted list of defenses (that is, coping mechanisms), but the set that I use is presented in a table at the end of this chapter.
Entomologically, the very name defenses indicates an attacker and a defender. In Freud's early writing the attacker was repressed material from the system unconscious (Ucs) and the defender was the system conscious (Cs).
Later, as Freud revised his theory, but still in his single drive theory mode, which was later to be replaced by a dual drive theory, the attacker was the drives or drive derivatives from the id and the defender was the ego.
In the final dual drive incarnation of Freud's thinking, the attackers were drives and drive derivatives from the id but also the unconscious part of the superego while the defender was still the ego.
As readers of this book are probably well aware, Reich put forth the idea that the character was also a defense, in fact the main defense. I will examine that idea subsequently but at this point let us just look at the logic of the position (which is not to say it is wrong, only, as you will see, that it greatly muddies up the water).
 
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