Dostoevsky and others. (Article 10 of the history of my epilepsy.)

Dostoevsky and others.

As I mentioned in the section "Avoiding epileptics" it is easy on the Internet to find and print out a list of 100 famous people who suffered from epilepsy. Socrates, Julius Caesar, Molière, Napoleon Bonaparte, Alfred Nobel, Fyodor Dostoyevsky and others. Most lived a long time ago, and we really know nothing of their epileptic suffering and for that reason, I was never really able to feel any comfort in knowing that the people who have been successful also suffered from epilepsy. However, there is a brilliant exception to the listed among epileptics, and it is Dostoevsky. In his literature, and especially in The Idiot, he describes epileptic seizures so that even an epileptic understands.

I remember when DR Janov long ago asked me to describe an epileptic seizure, and I replied that I unfortunately did not have Dostoevsky's verbal brilliance and ability to verbalize and explain all the dimensions of my feelings and my pain during a seizure, but I asked him to read the section in The Idiot when Prince Myshkin meticulously describes a fit from the moments just before a seizure until is over:

“He fell to thinking, among other things, about his epileptic condition, that there was a stage in it just before the fit itself (if the fit occurred while he was awake), when suddenly, amidst the sadness, the darkness of soul, the pressure, his brain would momentarily catch fire, as I was, and all his life’s forces would be strained at once in an extraordinary impulse. The sense of life, of self awareness, increased nearly tenfold in these moments, which flashed by like lightning. His mind, his heart were lit up with an extraordinary light; all his agitations, all his doubts, all his worries were as if placated at once, resolved in a sort of sublime tranquility, filled with serene, harmonious joy, and hope, filled with reason and ultimate cause. But these moments, these glimpses were still only a presentiment of that ultimate second (never more than a second) from which the fit itself began. That second was, of course, unbearable. Reflecting on that moment afterwards, in a healthy state, he had often said to himself that all those flashes and glimpses of a higher self-sense and self-awareness, and therefore, of the "highest being" were nothing but an illness, a violation of the normal state, and if so, then this was not the highest being at all but, on the contrary, should be counted as the very lowest.   And yet he finally arrived at an extremely paradoxical conclusion: "So what if it’s an illness?" he finally decided "Who cares that it is an abnormal strain, if the result itself, if the moment of the sensation, remembered and examined in a healthy state, turns out to be the highest degree of harmony, beauty, gives a hitherto unheard-of and unknown feeling of fullness,  measure,  reconciliation, and an ecstatic, prayerful merging with the highest synthesis of life?" These vague expressions seemed quite comprehensible to him, though still too weak. That it was indeed "beauty and prayer,’ that it was indeed ‘the highest synthesis of life," he could not doubt, nor could he admit of any doubts. Was he dreaming some sort of abnormal and nonexistent visions of that moment, as from hashish, opium, or wine, which humiliate the reason and distort the soul? He could reason about it sensibly once his morbid state was over. Those moments were precisely only an extraordinary intensification of self-awareness - if there was a need to express this condition in a single word - self-awareness and at the same time a self-sense immediate in the highest degree. If in that second, that is, in the very last conscious moment before the fit, he had happened to succeed in saying clearly and consciously to himself: "Yes, for this moment one could give once’s whole life!" - then surely this moment in itself was worth a whole life. However, he did not insist on the dialectical part of his reasoning: dullness, darkness of soul, idiocy stood before him as the clear consequence of these "highest moments." Naturally, he was not about to argue, in earnest. His reasoning, that is, his evaluation of this moment, undoubtedly contained an error, but all the same he was somewhat perplexed by the actuality of the sensation. What, in fact,  was he to do with this actuality? Because it had happened, he had succeeded in saying to himself in that very second, that this second, in its boundless happiness, which he fully experienced, might perhaps be worth his whole life. "At that moment," as he had once said to Rogozhin in Moscow, when they got together there, ‘at that moment, I was somehow able to understand the extraordinary phrase that "time shall be no more". Probably, he added, smiling, "it’s the same second in which the jug of water overturned by the epileptic Muhammad did not have time to spill, while he had time during the same second to survey all the dwellings of Allah".”

It is interesting to read David Ingvar's biography of Dostoevsky in the book "Ten Brains" in which he emphasizes that there are few people with epilepsy symptoms that it has been written so much about. Already at the turn of the eighteenth to the nineteenth century leading Russian and foreign neurologists published essays on Dostoevsky's epilepsy, although neither brain imaging nor electrophysiological methods (EEC) were available. David Ingvar mentions that Freud (who dismissed the pathological Dostoyevsky) obviously believed that emotional factors in childhood, especially youthful erotic escapades and bad relationship with his father could have had an impact on the disease.

David Ingvar adds that although Dostoevsky's seizures are well described both by Dostoevsky himself, and by his wife Anna, we cannot with certainty state what form of epilepsy it was. However, the descriptions, like those in The Idiot, including joy of  transcendental nature,  point to an epilepsy of temporal lob character a now well defined type, which perhaps, according to some researchers, may be due to early brain damage in fetal life! The epileptic process begins in the temporal lobe (-lobes) where the control of emotions is located. Epileptic discharges here may trigger anxiety, for example, in some cases, hallucinations, memory impairment and then sometimes, but not always, a general attack with unconsciousness and convulsions.

2400 years ago the Greeks and Hippocrates believed that epilepsy was linked to religious experiences, and was known as ‘the sacred disease’ because the visions that people with epilepsy had were God sent. If Hippocrates had to live and read "The Idiot" by Dostoevsky (who certainly had read Hippocrates), especially the section where he describes his feelings during the seconds when he feels his aura, he probably would have nodded in recognition. Prince Myshkin comments to a friend; “it’s the same second in which the jug of water, overturned by the epileptic Muhammad, did not have time to spill, while he had time during the same second to survey all the dwellings of Allah.”

In ancient Rome, epilepsy was considered a disease of the assembly hall and had been sent as a punishment from the Gods. In most cultures throughout history, epileptics have been stigmatized, isolated and even put in mental hospitals and in prisons. As late as 40-50 years ago epileptics were placed together with mentally retarded patients in psychiatric hospitals, and we do not need to go to many decades back in time to find epileptics, criminals and persons with chronic syphilis in the same institutions in Sweden. So I’m not surprised to find out that this still happens in many countries around the world, for example, in Eastern Europe and Africa.

In the neurological context, it is referred rarely or never to the Bible. With posthumously religious support from my mother, I take the liberty, however, to refer to l:a Genesis 3:16. It says: " I will greatly multiply your pain in childbirth, in pain you will bring forth children; yet your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you."  My painful and abnormally slow birth which lasted over 48 hours was a product of my mother’s fidelity to the Bible. It is not just Hippocrates, who believe that epilepsy was a God sent disease.

In the world of epilepsy, so rich in syndrome, variations and types, I am one of many. Since, however, I received the information directly from my mother's mouth from where she got her ideas to give me a painful start, and since we were a fairly typical Christian / religious family it would not surprise me if I had and have many soul mates with the same sacred disease background around the world. Perhaps I should add that I can easily identify with many different variations of symptoms that are described in the voluminous technical neurological epilepsy bouquet. Much of the original underlying factor as pain and horror from an insane, sick birth process followed by life twisting neuroses I have by the help of a genius from Malibu, California, United States, been able to understand much more than I technically can take in.

The greatest happiness is to know why you are unhappy. Fyodor Dostoevsky

Mario Vargas Llosa's Reflection on TOLERANCE

(Translated to English from Spanish by Google)

http://www.elpais.com/articulo/opinion/Rinkeby/elpepiopi/20101219elpepiopi_12/Tes

FORUM: Mario Vargas Llosa

Rinkeby

TOUCHSTONE. A school in a southern suburb of Stockholm is the mirror of what society should be human.Exist alongside children who speak 19 different languages and come from a hundred countries

MARIO VARGAS LLOSA 19/12/2010

If you visit Stockholm, I advise that in addition to the museums, palaces, the old quarter and the islands, visit a modest neighborhood south of town called Rinkeby. The vast majority of its residents are immigrants and families, I say, this is one of the poorest districts in the country, although the idea of poverty in Sweden, which has reached the highest living standards in the world along with Switzerland, has little to do with what the rest of the world the word means.

The philosophy that permeates the school Rinkeby it in one word: tolerance

We must start with children. It is the surest way to get to live in peace later

The important thing to know in Rinkeby is the public school, an institution that is a mirror of what human society should be, the whole world, prevailed among us mere mortals the wisdom, the wisdom and practicality. There are at this school boys and girls who speak 19 different languages and come from a hundred different countries. Everyone knows Swedish and English, but have lost their mother tongue because the school has managed so that everyone receives at least one hour per week, classes in languages spoken at home and spoke their ancestors. The school's principal, Börje Ehrstrand, is convinced that the integration of these children to the culture and customs of Sweden is easier if not rejected, but claimed and are proud of their origin. The philosophy that permeates the school Rinkeby it in one word: tolerance.

In the frantic amount of things I did and I saw in the eight days I just went in Stockholm, so moved me as few days ago I was in Rinkeby. I was welcomed by 19 children, each in a different language. All of them were a true fan of the races, traditions, religions and cultures of the world. There were young Scandinavian girls in miniskirts with evenings of Yemen, North African Arabs intermingled with Turks, Chileans and Chinese, extravagant and formal attire.Function began singing songs related to Christmas Nordic.

Then came the show. It consisted of two parts. The first was a summary of the life and work of Alfred Nobel (1833-1896), the chemist who invented dynamite, was a powerful industrial and bequeathed his fortune to create the awards that bear his name. This biographical notes made no secret that the fertile and famous character had been a Social Democrat and Republican anti-monarchist and had also sketched some small works of literature, with more enthusiasm than inspiration. Then, the representation became even more didactic and told us what they were present findings and achievements this year who had earned their authors the Nobel Prize for Medicine, Physics and Chemistry. From Hats off! The day before, in a BBC program, winners themselves tried to enlighten the uninitiated on those inventions and, I believe that I speak for myself alone, "left us all on the moon of Bahia. These brats, however, through his drawings, photographs, cards and oral explanations, some impregnated with good humor, got give viewers a much more accurate idea of those scientific achievements, including magnetic prodigy flying frog (the star of the Nobel this year, no doubt), managed by the physicist Konstantin Novoselov.

The second part consisted of counting and representing in summary a novel of mine, The Storyteller, in which a Jewish boy in Peru, Lima and middle class, it becomes a storyteller machiguenga, ie experiencing a cultural conversion is alsoa historic move, modern and rational man in a primitive, magical and religious. They did wonderfully well illustrated through designs, music and pictures, reading the texts in different languages were different narrators. I seemed to be reliving the insides of all that was the construction of the story.

Neither school district nor the Rinkeby were 20 years ago in the shadow of what they are now. Violence reigned in the place and photos from the time show that classrooms, playgrounds and school halls were a monument to dirt and disorder, while academic performance was the lowest in the country. It was under these conditions in one of the teachers, Börje Ehrstrand, assumed leadership. The reforms he introduced were discussed with parents, which, thereafter, were given an intense and constant participation in all school activities, including teaching. Students themselves and thereafter secured the room cleaning, doing volunteer work.

The first two years are the most difficult and in them the school's primary task is to iron suspicion and sullen attitude of his fellow newcomers to the folder that dress differently, speak a different language, worship another god. Some adapt easily, and those who do not have special courses attended by parents, advised by the two psychologists who are part of the campus. Generally, after the third year the communication and exchanges are fluid and can talk about integration in diversity, because the common-denominator language and accepting the "other" - are already part of the student's personality.

Rinkeby school is notable not only because it coexist children across the cultural spectrum, too, because for the past three years his students included in the national contest honors math and the average outstanding academic achievement. The demand has made over the past five years the school has grown, currently a quarter of its students come from other neighborhoods, and the reputation of the institution will transcend the Swedish border. Recently awarded the European Community as the institution most successful in preventing juvenile delinquency.

I felt sorry I had no chance to speak, in that tumultuous week, with Börje Ehrstrand, to learn more about the author of this cultural and democratic achievement is the school he leads. But I visited the library and I was glad to hear, by the mouth of one of the librarians, the teaching of literature and incitement to read part of the primary school curriculum. No wonder that, contrary to popular belief, the school is only a reflection of what happens in the neighborhood, in this case the impressive transformation of the neighborhood school has had a salutary effect on the community surrounding it, diminishing the violence, ethnic and religious disputes, crime.

Sweden has not been immune to the prejudices against immigration, fueled by financial crisis and the consequent reduction in employment, given to extremist parties and movements, anti-immigrant and xenophobic political presence who did not. For the first time one has entered the Swedish parliament in recent elections. It is not the first case. When a society is the victim of some catastrophe, economic or political, the need for a scapegoat and of course, immigrants are the main targets. Never mind that all statistics show that without migration the European countries could not maintain high living standards they have and that foreign workers bring to the economy of a country is much higher than what it received. But the truth is shattered against what Popper called the spirit of the tribe, the instinctive rejection of the "other", which is not part of his own flock or herd, the early closure is the biggest obstacle for a country to achieve civilization.

So what has gotten the Rinkeby school is so important and should serve as a model for all countries receiving large numbers of immigrants and want to avoid the problems resulting from the marginalization and discrimination that these are often the victims. We must start with children.These learn to live with whom they speak, skins, gods, different customs, and, living together, go shedding, like a useless waste in their own cultures, from all that hinders or prevents coexistence with others, the safest way to get that later, when men and women can live in peace in the ethnic and linguistic diversity, which, like it or not, is the overriding feature of the world whose threshold we stand now.

© Copyright world press in all languages reserved Ediciones El Pais, SL, 2010.

© Mario Vargas Llosa, 2010.

TRIBUNA: MARIO VARGAS LLOSA

Rinkeby

PIEDRA DE TOQUE. Un colegio de un barrio del sur de Estocolmo es el espejo de lo que debería ser la sociedad humana. En él conviven niños que hablan 19 idiomas distintos y proceden de un centenar de países

MARIO VARGAS LLOSA 19/12/2010

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Si usted visita Estocolmo, le aconsejo que, además de los museos, los palacios, el barrio antiguo y las islas, visite un modesto barrio del Sur de la ciudad llamado Rinkeby. La inmensa mayoría de sus pobladores son familias inmigrantes y, me dicen, se trata de uno de los distritos más pobres del país, aunque la idea de pobreza en Suecia, que ha alcanzado el más alto nivel de vida del mundo junto con Suiza, tenga poco que ver con lo que para el resto del planeta esta palabra significa.

La noticia en otros webs

• webs en español
• en otros idiomas

La filosofía que impregna la escuela de Rinkeby cabe en una palabra: tolerancia

Hay que empezar con los niños. Es la manera más segura de conseguir que más tarde vivan en paz

Lo importante de conocer en Rinkeby es el colegio público, una institución que es un espejo de lo que debería ser la sociedad humana, el mundo entero, si prevalecieran entre nosotros los mortales la sensatez, el tino y el espíritu práctico. Hay en este colegio chicos y chicas que hablan 19 idiomas distintos y proceden de un centenar de países diferentes. Todos conocen el sueco y el inglés, pero no han perdido su lengua materna porque el colegio se las ha arreglado para que todos reciban, cuando menos una hora por semana, clases en el idioma que hablan en casa y hablaron sus ancestros. El director del colegio, Börje Ehrstrand, está convencido de que la integración de estos niños a la cultura y a los usos de Suecia es más fácil no si rechazan, sino reivindican y se sienten orgullosos de su origen. La filosofía que impregna la escuela de Rinkeby cabe en una palabra: tolerancia.

De la frenética cantidad de cosas que hice y que vi en los ocho días que acabo de pasar en Estocolmo, pocas me conmovieron tanto como la tarde que estuve en Rinkeby. Me dieron la bienvenida 19 niños y niñas, cada uno en un idioma distinto. Todos ellos constituían un verdadero abanico de las razas, las tradiciones, las religiones y las culturas del mundo. Había jovencitas escandinavas en minifalda junto a muchachas veladas del Yemen, árabes norafricanos entreverados con turcos, chilenos y chinos, atuendos extravagantes y formales. Comenzaron la función cantando canciones nórdicas relacionadas con la Navidad.

Después, vino el espectáculo. Constaba de dos partes. La primera consistía en un resumen de la vida y la obra de Alfred Nobel (1833-1896), el químico que inventó la dinamita, fue un poderoso industrial y legó su fortuna para la creación de los premios que llevan su nombre. Esta síntesis biográfica no ocultaba que el fecundo y célebre personaje había sido un socialdemócrata republicano y antimonárquico y que había pergeñado también algunas obritas literarias, con más entusiasmo que inspiración. Luego, la representación se volvió todavía más didáctica y nos explicó a los presentes en qué consistían los hallazgos y realizaciones que habían merecido este año a sus autores los premios Nobel de Medicina, Física y Química. ¡De quitarse el sombrero! La víspera, en un programa de la BBC, los propios laureados intentaron iluminarnos a los profanos sobre aquellos inventos y -creo que no hablo por mí solo- nos dejaron a todos en la luna de Babia. Estos mocosos, en cambio, a través de sus dibujos, fotografías, tarjetas y explicaciones orales, algunas impregnadas de buen humor, consiguieron darnos a los espectadores una idea bastante más precisa de aquellos logros científicos, incluido el prodigio magnético del sapo volador (la estrella de los Nobel de este año, sin la menor duda), conseguido por el físico Konstantin Novoselov.

La segunda parte consistió en contar y representar de manera resumida una novela mía, El hablador, en la que un muchacho judío peruano, limeño y de clase media, se vuelve un contador de cuentos machiguenga, es decir, vive una conversión cultural que es también una mudanza histórica, de hombre moderno y racional en un ser primitivo, mágico y religioso. Lo hicieron maravillosamente bien, ilustrando con diseños, música y estampas, los textos que iban leyendo en diferentes idiomas los distintos narradores. Me pareció estar reviviendo las interioridades de todo lo que fue la construcción de aquella historia.

Ni el barrio ni la escuela de Rinkeby fueron hace 20 años la sombra de lo que son ahora. La violencia reinaba en el lugar y las fotos de la época muestran que las aulas, patios y pasillos escolares eran un monumento a la suciedad y al desorden, en tanto que el rendimiento escolar era el más bajo del país. Fue en estas condiciones en que uno de los profesores, Börje Ehrstrand, asumió la dirección. Las reformas que introdujo fueron discutidas con los padres de familia, a los que, a partir de entonces, se les dio una participación intensa y constante en todas las actividades escolares, incluidas las didácticas. Ellos mismos y los alumnos aseguraron a partir de entonces la limpieza del local, haciendo trabajo voluntario.

Los dos primeros años son los más difíciles y en ellos la tarea primordial de la escuela es ir limando la desconfianza y la actitud huraña de los recién llegados hacia sus compañeros de carpeta que visten distinto, hablan otra lengua, adoran a otro dios. Algunos se adaptan con facilidad; los que no, tienen cursos especiales, a los que asisten los padres, asesorados por los dos psicólogos que forman parte del plantel. Generalmente, a partir del tercer año la comunicación y los intercambios son fluidos y se puede hablar de una integración en la diversidad, porque los denominadores comunes -el idioma y la aceptación del "otro"- ya forman parte de la personalidad del alumno.

La escuela de Rinkeby no solo es notable porque en ella coexistan niños y niñas de todo el espectro cultural; también, porque desde hace tres años sus alumnos figuran en el palmarés del concurso nacional de matemáticas y por los excelentes logros académicos del promedio. La demanda ha hecho que en los últimos cinco años la escuela haya crecido, que en la actualidad una cuarta parte de sus alumnos procedan de otros barrios, y que la fama de la institución vaya trascendiendo las fronteras suecas. Hace poco, la Comunidad Europea la premió como la institución que más éxito ha tenido en la prevención de la delincuencia juvenil.

Sentí mucho no haber tenido ocasión de conversar, en esa tarde tumultuosa, con Börje Ehrstrand, a fin de conocer más de cerca al autor de esta hazaña cultural y democrática que es el colegio que dirige. Pero sí visité la biblioteca y me dio gusto saber, por boca de una de las bibliotecarias, que la enseñanza de la literatura y la incitación a leer forman parte primordial del currículo de la escuela. No es de extrañar que, al revés de lo que se suele creer, que la escuela no es más que un reflejo de aquello que ocurre en la vecindad, en este caso la formidable transformación del colegio del barrio haya tenido un efecto saludable en la comunidad que lo rodea, atenuando la violencia, las disputas étnicas y religiosas, la criminalidad.

Suecia no ha sido inmune a los prejuicios contra la inmigración que, atizados por la crisis financiera y la consiguiente reducción del empleo, ha dado a partidos y movimientos extremistas, antiinmigrantes y xenófobos, una presencia política que no tenían. Por primera vez, uno de ellos ha entrado al Parlamento sueco en las últimas elecciones. No es la primera vez que ocurre así. Cuando una sociedad es víctima de alguna catástrofe, económica o política, surge la necesidad de un chivo expiatorio y, por supuesto, los inmigrantes son los blancos principales. No importa que todas las estadísticas señalen que sin la emigración los países europeos no podrían mantener los altos niveles de vida que tienen y que lo que los trabajadores extranjeros aportan a la economía de un país es muy superior a lo que de ella reciben. Pero la verdad se hace añicos contra lo que Popper llamaba el espíritu de la tribu, ese rechazo instintivo del "otro", del que no forma parte de la propia manada u horda, esa cerrazón primitiva que es el mayor obstáculo para que un país alcance la civilización.

Por eso, lo que ha conseguido el colegio de Rinkeby es tan importante y debería servir de modelo a todos los países que reciben grandes contingentes de inmigrantes y quieren evitarse los problemas que resultan de la marginación y discriminación de que estos suelen ser víctimas. Hay que empezar con los niños. Que estos aprendan a convivir con quienes tienen hablas, pieles, dioses, costumbres distintas, y que, conviviendo, vayan desprendiéndose, como de un residuo inútil, en sus propias culturas, de todo aquello que dificulta o impide la coexistencia con los otros, es la más segura manera de conseguir que más tarde, cuando sean ya hombres y mujeres, puedan vivir en paz en esa diversidad étnica y lingüística, que, nos guste o no, será el rasgo primordial del mundo cuyos umbrales ya pisamos.

© Derechos mundiales de prensa en todas las lenguas reservados a Ediciones EL PAÍS, SL, 2010.

© Mario Vargas Llosa, 2010.

Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year

We here in Genovés have during 2010 with the help of positive changes of economic and psychological nature, again found our rhythm of life. The Spanish and the international crises we will be stuck with even when we are rushing into 2011. My personal delight at the newfound resilience of the Swedish krona is a stance that the Swedish export industry certainly does not share. In La Costera, where we live, many neighbors for their survival are dependent on employers who wish that the euro would be cheaper and that would be OK for me as long as I shall not sell the house and move to Sweden... It must be hell to be a responsible European politician!

Issa opted out of biology, chemistry and physics, and added Latin and art to her subjects to study for a future graduation. Unfortunately, both Issa and her mother opted out of the topic “Family relations”. Which alternative they have done, I have not yet been informed of. My dream is that they both would like each other. To avoid the risk of egg all over I moved Isabels piano to Elvira in the summer.

"What do you do with all of your time?", there are people who ask. I do not have  enough time!! Although we basically have just a few visits during the spring, fall and summer from friends in Sweden and Denmark, and I read fewer books than I did before when I also played golf. The Internet, writing, plus the fact that the tempo is slow means that I sometimes feel guilty when I do not have time for more...

A trip to and a fine experience in France, St. Tropez, I did, however, in July when Issa and I met "my pal" since 1978, Art Janov and his wife France. He has reached the age of 86 years but is amazingly vibrant. He publishes a new book now at the turn of the year. Unfortunately, he won’t get the Nobel Prize, which I have to put up with this year since Mario Vargas Llosa got it. He is a Hispanic, excellent writer, a social critic, political, intelligent and a true soccer fan. He is a Real Madrid supporter, but I forgive him that. Especially 

after Barca, our favorites, won El Clásico with 5-0!!!!!

After writing articles about my adventures with epilepsy in both Swedish and English, I have started my blog (http://epilepticjourney.blogspot.com/) which I have chosen to write in English because the majority of insiders and possibly interested are not Swedish-speaking, while all Swedes understand English. If anyone has a problem, do what I do: Use Google's great translation program!

Many dependencies, including women, I have managed to overcome, but I wonder if not the weather here in La Costera is developing itself into a habit-dependence. It is enough that I go to Valencia, and I’m immediately longing home to the weather in Genovés. I could not create sufficient motivation to go to Sweden for Christmas this year. Issa, however, who is young and full of ambition can easily prioritize down the weather impact, and she goes, December 23, to Ramlösa, to visit her friend Hansi and of course, she’s hoping for a  white Christmas!

My morning walks with Puskas, the Internet, Skype, email, newspapers, books, blogs and the Mediterranean diet make that I cannot feel sorry for myself. I am a privileged digital immigrant!

From Jan, Isabel and Puskas

Comments to Janov's Reflections on psychopaths and ADD

Psychopaths and ADD

I have a deep feeling of unhappiness regarding your Reflections in the above topics. That does not mean that I don’t respect your opinions and your worries. Both fields represent symptoms of a society with problems to adjust to circumstances, which are growing out of its once established and accepted (at least for a while) norms in a fashion we have not yet been able to cope with.

So why do I feel unhappy?

When you (like many of the debaters) project all kinds of negativity into your emotional responses to “Psychopaths and ADD” and tell that everybody else is wrong, and that you know the correct way (which I want to avoid  continuing to disprove), I feel dissatiesfied because you have a tool, a therapy, to heal and dissolve mental pain and to save lives. You have over time developed an intuition and timing to handle the Primal Principles, which has its tremendous ally in the evolution.

I think all your thinking , and Reflections should go into how we can hand your Primal Theory (including your intuition and timing) over to the next generations. You have already done a Herculian work in this sense but now and then you are taking the role of someone who has outgrown his own really genial invention and start debating problems in society into which you have only vague insights. 

Suddenly, you are diluting your genius and seemingly, does as the crowd, and you move your image where it does not have any sense. It may be fun for a while, but when you are gone, we need your very best recipes: How to give Primal Therapy to those of us who need it, so we can be feeling, loving and sane individuals that can take responsibility for our lives and for our children’s lives in order to avoid psychopaths and ADD.

Love Jan

Rolfing 4. (Dec. 15th, 2010)

Very early this morning (Dec. 16th) I woke up with tensions in my arms and legs. It was tensions af anesthesia and pressure from the birth process. I went with the feelings and during a couple of hours, I re-experienced and lived through how pressure and tension moved over the chest, the neck, the mouth, the nose and the front, and over again. In parallel a corresponding experience and movement took place throughout my arms and legs.

If I compare the level of pain today with my experiences from the mid 90ies I would say that it is a 2 compared to a 10. The Primal process is ending with that the head is pushed backwards, and the tongue is being rolled together and pushed down into the throat all while I am hyperventilating or not breathing at all for long periods. Often, but not always, the sequence when the head is being pushed backwards is followed by a cool dry cough before a baby’s cry is welling up from the bottom of my throat.

When Isabel and I were in town (Xátiva) yesterday and walked along the main

street and had fun, I suddenly went into an overwhelming feeling of being very small, and it was followed by a sudden crying sound that was pushed out of me. Un uninitiated neurologist had probably said that I had a petitmall seizure. However, it was by no means. It was a residual memory from the birth which popped up. Issa asked if it was a fit, but I was both conscious and in a beaming mood, so I said it was a birth primal and old crying, which never had been allowed to ascend. “That’s nice!” she said! She has more intuition and situation perception than almost all the therapists and neurologists whom I have met. (If her therapeutic action could be translated into professional soccer, she had on the spot got a profitable youth contract by some gifted talent scout.)

On my way to today’s Rolfingsession, the 4th out of 10, I had two themes on my mind:

NON VERBAL TREATMENTS

I’m thinking about how both The Primal Therapy and the Rolfing are non verbal treatments which have been fundamental to my success to turn epilepsy into birth primals. Both Art Janov and Ida Rolf have communicated that a pre birth trauma creates wordless memories in the brain and the body and cannot, successfully, be treated with the help of words, because the trauma is a physical or mental pain which has to be felt relived (Primal Therapy) or repaired by physical restructuring of the body.

These thoughts led to that my homeopath in the 90ies worked from the principal of the reverse evolution, e.g., the latest layer of traumas and neuroses must be decoded before the next layer, etc. until the rock bottom birth trauma can be relived and dissolved. My homeopath purged (by help of homeopathic medications of natural herbs) infections, which had accumulated in my body according to the same principle as the Primal Therapy,  last in, first out. (To be fair to homeopathy, they have used this principle for hundreds of years.) With the help of incredible small quantities of arnica the homeopath succeeded in to provoke the remainder of my unexploded chicken pox from the age of three. During less than two months I had two times complete shingles over my entire body, which I survived only after having been severely ill.

Both Ida Rolf and Art Janov prefer that their clients only stick to the therapy each of them represents. Ida Rolf preferred that her patiens keep to Rolfing and should let the body structuring and gravity constitute the basis for the self healing of the body and psyche and avoid picking various solutions from a “smorgasbord” of different treatments. Art Janov says that Rolfing may help, but pushes muscles to release tension without proper connection to the brain. 

ADD

My other speculation had it’s origin in Arts Refletion. Before I developed epilepsy at 19, I fulfilled all the demands for ADHD which AACAP thinks are necessary. However, when I was 3-19, hyperactive impulses still had not got their label (stigma). 1990 existed only in the USA 750.000 children with the diagnose ADD, 2010, there are 4.000.000 of which the majority is taking expensive prescription medications. It has turned into a billion dollar industry and no wonder I have read that in a PBS special it’s suggested the epidemic of ADD is man made.

My ADD symptoms were converted when I got epilepsy and was conditioned with Tegretol. The filter created by the medication against hyperactivity, and seizure was well correlated with my tremendous birth pain and kept me going in a more community-oriented and acceptable way. I could concentrate and finish my studies and later hold qualified positions. However, it was no long term solution, and I was working my way to an early death. With Tegretol against epilepsy and ADD I was no longer a nuisance to the surrounding. At least 4.000.000 kids are living on these conditions today and as Art says  we don’t know the reason for most of them and the experts don’t even ask why. It will get worse before it is getting better. The ever ongoing international power shift and restructuring are acceleranting.

ROLFING SESSION

Today’s Rolfing session was mainly about my legs and arms. How I move them and how I still lack the necessary ability to relax my joints and to take steps when I walk, which are long, broad enough and with a full extension of my heel tendons and my toes. By doing a simple exercise I realized that my hands and feet don’t count in my brain. They are non existent and to compensate my arm and leg movements, I tense up the upper parts of my legs and arm. However, trying a weight of 1 pound around my arm- and foot wrists, I could feel that I have booth hands and feet, and I could suddenly walk and move hands and feet in a way, which felt natural and great.

My feeling from this morning primals came to my memory, and I realized that I have never regained my full sensation in hands and feet. After massage / movement of the fascia it was as if the brain accepted that I have feet even when I quit the weights. Fascinating! I talked with Jordi about my crying sounds when we worked on my hands and feet, and I prepared him for surprises of baby cries not only from his newborn son. When I said it I got a brief feeling, like a cut in the throat, of how the extremities, to protect me, push down feelings, which want to ascend through my throat.

Jan Johnsson

The importance of a few words. (Article 9 of the history of my epilepsy.)

The importance of a few words. (Letter to A.J.)

After receiving your letter yesterday in which you told me to write a book about epilepsy I went to bed in a beaming mood, slept well and had an ideal, well-coordinated birth primal in the morning, followed by insights about my father and how I perceived his and my relationship.

As I said, I woke up early, and I had a simultaneously pleasant and painful birth primal. (To re experience pain hurts, but it is also, thanks to the revival of the moment of terror, a pleasant relief.) With the body clamped while my head is slowly bending upward, backward, and my mouth and tongue being bulged outward as a cone, suddenly a pleasant, clean and almost eagerly infants cry rose from my throat. An authentic feeling, which a while later was followed by many thoughts and feelings about my father. We never had a good relationship and I disliked him for decades. My feeling has during all these years been that he did nothing for me. Was it really an accurate picture?

Suddenly, I realized this morning that it was not true. In fact, he tried some times. He spent much time with me during my first three years. I do not remember many details from these years but a summary of letters and photographs and oral reproduce suggests that it was a happy time in my parents' lives. During this period, I was breast fed until I was 2-year-old. Some of my first clear memories are how my father and I in early July 1943 went to the hospital to bring back my mother, which I looked forward to. We would bring home my mother and newborn sister. During the autumn this year my father was drafted as a military fireman in Haparanda, which lies 1000 miles to the north in Sweden. I remember how deeply I missed him, and that I often went to his bed to feel his scent. During the following years, my situation changed drastically. My sister dethroned me, and this created a jealousy that I suffered in several contexts over many years. From my father's return from the war and our move to Alnarp in 1945 our relationship deteriorated over the years.

My father was born in a rather isolated place in northeast Scania, Sweden’s southernmost province. Around the turn of the century, many emigrated to America and the conditions for those who stayed behind were not encouraging and the situation was further impaired by the Spanish flu, the pandemic which is estimated to have claimed the most lives in human history, devastated the area between 1918 and 1920. My father lost his mother, a newborn brother and a sister and he grew up with his father and four older sisters. He always maintained a close relationship with his sisters and took care of them later when they needed help, which e.g. occurred in the late 40's and early 50's, and it frustrated me, because it affected my own comfort when they during long periods lived in our home. Throughout the 40's my father could still be happy and relaxed and tell comic stories from his youth and sing and talk in his childhoods local dialect. From the early 1950s, he became increasingly introspective and was often tired and depressed and developed a pattern that reminded of his older sisters.

A number of painful memories were loaded into my memory when I came to LA at the beginning of 1978. That my father, e.g., without my acceptance had shaved off mine, in his opinion, all too thin hair (to make it grow like his own), that he had dealt with my chicken pox all over my body with a horrible smelling cream that caused a caustic burning and which was meant for cows, that he had asked a hunter to shoot my cat Sniff and my dog Bella without talking to me, that he beat me as a lunatic when I had performed some rascal behavior in the Alnarp Gardens, he had like a lightning bolt from a clear sky knocked down at me and in a degrading manner taken from me a deck of pornographic drawings, again without talking to me, and he angrily had asked me to stop making a wry mouth at the dinner table when I got epileptic petit mall fits. Those were facts that I took with me to my therapy sessions.

I had hoped that these painful memories would loosen my inhibitions if I could put words on them and bring up the emotions around them and that this in turn would lead to that I could get at the cause of my epilepsy. I was not sure that these memories had a direct connection with my epilepsy but that there was a connection between the unpleasant feelings of pain and anxiety that the above-mentioned memories evoked and the similar painful and anxious feelings inside my epilepsy, that I was convinced of. I was a front runner and only now 25 years later brain researchers begin to show that the brain's pain management follows the same principles re both emotional and physical pain. The root of my epileptic discomfort was caused by an abnormally painful physical birth process which was anesthetized and handled internally in the brain just like emotional pain caused by humiliation. What surprised me afterwards is that it has been easier to feel the connection with the pain behind a seizure / birth primal than it was to feel the pain caused by my father. There I have, seemingly, been out of step with the evolutionary order.

One night when I was between 5 and 6 years old I got up and went to the toilet to pee and had some minor difficulties due to an apparent urethral infection. My father came up suddenly wondering if something was wrong, and because I didn’t want him to walk again so I replied: “I cannot pee, dad!” Faster than I could blink and without discussing with me, he took a decision immediately to take me to the hospital in Lund. He dressed us quickly, put me on the rack on his bike and pedaled to the nearest village, Lomma, from where we took a taxi to the hospital. This happened 1946.  During the whole trip, I was worried and pressured. I wanted him to talk to me, and I didn’t dare to tell him that I did not require any hospital visit. It was him, I needed, not the hospital. The doctor in Lund quickly realized, by pressing lightly on my bladder, that I could pee so much I needed, and he asked me kindly and jokingly to try the trick with pressing the next time I had difficulties. The return trip was painful. Partly, because I felt I had deluded and partly because my father did not speak with me.

This morning a number of memories ascended, which showed that my statements and feelings during the years that my father never did anything for me was not correct but had been neurotically tinted. Different filters which have now been dissolved, has done that I have not been able correctly to evaluate the number of contributions that my father did. These efforts have been suppressed below the traumatic unmet needs, e.g. that he did not bother, took no time with me and didn’t talk to me. Love it is called and it was not met.

As the only of us siblings my father let me study at a status school, the Cathedral School of Lund (after advice from my school teacher) which was a considerable financial sacrifice in those days. Referring to his own study scores in math he started me on this subject after the first semester of secondary school when he realized that I thought school was just a joke. (Neurotic needs developed my ability in mathematics so that I from being worst in the class became one of the best.) My father helped me to technically oriented jobs and to practical theoretical courses, when I refused to continue in high school. He helped me out of an illegal exchange business about a car when I was 18, and he accounted for the costs associated with a collision with my car when it was without brakes and insurance. My father arranged for a place to live in Copenhagen when I in the early 60's moved there to start working with hats. There may very well be more things I have forgotten, but I am now aware of that my previous image that my father did not do anything for me is not correct, at least when it comes to practical matters.

Behind my longstanding feeling that my father never stood up for me is the fact that he didn’t speak to me when I needed it. He didn’t help me to understand things. I had to find solutions myself and sometimes when things went to hell then he acted and helped me off the hook but did not explain or talk to me. This humiliation has created a feeling in me that he never helped me, which has not yet been literally correct because the feeling of lack of love has had the upper hand.

In the spring of 1979 I flew home to Sweden from LA to fix a number of practical issues, including my Swedish driving license, and then I visited my parents. When I was about to leave my father came up to me with tears running along his cheeks and asked stuttering if I still hated him for what he had done to me 30 years ago, when he beat me like a madman. To handle the situation, I had to nerve myself and push down my feelings in my stomach, and I'm glad I said no! I felt instinctively too much for him to be able to tell how much he had hurt me. I have afterwards realized that his pain for 30 years had at least been of the same magnitude as my own. Two months later, my father died of a heart attack while sleeping. Then I was back in L.A., and decided not to go to his funeral but asked my spouse to go. My reasons  for not going were that after our poor relationship over a lifetime, it felt wrong. It was difficult for me to grieve someone who had not been there emotionally when I needed him.

To compensate for the lack of someone who understood me and to fill the sense of loss of contact at home I searched for people outside of my home to communicate with, and I became quite good at this over the years. Books, magazines and newspapers were my drugs. Writers, journalists and movie stars became my substitute fathers, and they guided me literally through an ever increasing complex world and there were those I contacted and corresponded with. My father gave a helping hand when I could not manage to pay my illegal money orders...  A few well-known journalists, served as my role models in my way of thinking and acting, and I still pull from them to this day in my mental toolbox. Which, moreover, also has been the case with various gurus whom I have met in different fields.

As a consequence of the abovementioned experiences, and in spite of my unfulfilled needs, I feel sympathy with my father whom I admire in many aspects. He was admittedly introverted and often depressed, but he had great qualities. As a professional, teacher and leader for his subordinates and students, he was very well liked and respected. He followed the rules of the game, was honest and lived a fairly healthy life. He moralized never, despite his religiosity, neither when I smoked, drank nor had girls in my room, which was not unusual in the late teens before I developed epilepsy. He donated through his entire life a significant portion of his limited income to his church so it could afford to make relief efforts in Africa. Unfortunately,  he could not create opportunities to develop his true potential.

I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father's protection. 

Sigmund Freud