When the Impossible Happens (18 page)

It is certainly surprising to find such blatant logical contradictions in the context of scientific thinking, which takes great pride in the rigor of its logic. It is hard to find any other explanation for the above discrepancies than the profound emotional repression to which the memory of birth is subjected. The amount of emotional and physical stress and pain involved in childbirth clearly surpasses those of any postnatal trauma in infancy and childhood discussed in psychodynamic literature, with the possible exception of extreme forms of physical abuse. It is understandable that it is subjected to a strong psychological repression and denial.

In the second half of the twentieth century, psychedelic researchers and clinicians exploring various forms of experiential psychotherapy amassed convincing evidence that biological birth is the most profound trauma of our lives and an event of paramount psychospiritual importance. It is recorded in our memories in miniscule detail down to the cellular level, and it has far-reaching effects on our psychological development. Once we overcome our psychological resistance to confronting this painful and terrifying aspect of our personal history, it appears not only possible but very logical that an event of such magnitude is recorded in the unconscious psyche and that the memory of it can be brought into consciousness and relived.

The conceptual challenges increase exponentially as the regression in holotropic states continues further and reaches early stages of embryonal life and even the moment of conception. As we approach the beginning of life, the nervous system becomes increasingly immature and primitive, until it disappears altogether. And yet, there exists ample empirical evidence for the existence of memories from the dawn of our individual existence. We are then left with cellular memory as the only candidate for the material carrier of information.

In the following text, I will illustrate reliving of birth, intrauterine existence, and conception with a few examples drawn from psychedelic therapy and sessions of Holotropic Breathwork.

THE CHALLENGES OF NOON DELIVERY: The Story of Leni

To protect the privacy of my clients, I refer to them in my writings by fictional first names, which is a common practice in psychiatric literature. In this story I can make an exception, because its protagonist, the late Leni Schwartz, shared this story in her book
World of the Newborn
(Schwartz 1981). I first met Leni and her husband, Bob, who later became close and dear friends of mine, in 1971, when they attended one of my lectures in Miami, Florida. At the time when I sat for Leni’s LSD sessions, she was fifty years old and was an extremely gifted interior architect. The experiences that I am going to describe inspired her to study psychology and get a Ph.D. degree. Her dissertation, entitled
Bonding Before Birth,
was based on a longitudinal study of several couples, whom she followed in weekly group sessions from the time they had conceived a child to the time of the respective deliveries and beyond the birth of their offspring.

One of Leni’s high-dose LSD sessions took her deeply into the memory of her biological birth. She spent over two hours experiencing what I call the second basic perinatal matrix, or BPM II, the initial stage of delivery when the uterus contracts but the cervix is not yet open. This is one of the most difficult and challenging experiences one can have in holotropic states of consciousness. It typically involves agonizing feelings of emotional and physical suffering and a sense of no exit—a conviction that there is no escape from this situation and that it will never end. The most profound encounters with this matrix can take the form of being in hell, complete with visions of devils and infernal landscapes.

Later in the session, the experiences shifted to what I call the third basic perinatal matrix, or BPM III. This is the experience of the next stage of delivery, involving the struggle of the fetus in the birth canal after the cervix is sufficiently dilated and open. This experience involves among others powerful clashing energies, images of violent destructive and self-destructive scenes, and strange sexual arousal manifesting in a rich spectrum of deviant erotic imagery. If brought to successful completion, this stage culminates in an experience of psychospiritual death and rebirth.

However, this is not what happened in Leni’s session. After a long episode of determined struggle to be born, she suddenly felt enveloped by ominous darkness and had a sense of being engulfed and trapped. Her hope that she could succeed in freeing herself from the clutches of the birth canal all but vanished, and she found herself back in a no-exit situation. The effects of the drug gradually subsided, and she did not reach a resolution of her difficult predicament. The session left her with a feeling of discouragement and a pessimistic outlook on her life.

We decided to wait a week and schedule another session to reach a closure for this unsatisfactory experience. A week is about the time it takes after the administration of LSD to overcome the ensuing pharmacological tolerance toward another dose of the same substance. Leni’s next LSD session started again with an intense experience of BPM II with feelings of hopelessness and no exit. However, this did not take long, and all her discomfort suddenly disappeared as if by magic. She was flooded by a golden light of extraordinary brilliance that had a numinous quality. This was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of liberation and psychospiritual rebirth. This time her experience completely avoided the elements of the third perinatal matrix; there was a rapid transition from the deepest pit of despair and darkness into the ecstatic rapture of rebirth.

Puzzled by this strange sequence of events and seeking some understanding, Leni decided to call her mother and inquire about her birth. She did it after some hesitation, because her mother was very conservative and old-fashioned, and Leni knew that discussions of this kind were not easy for her. For example, she had not discussed anything related to sex with Leni until Leni was an adult and got married. And she certainly had not ever mentioned anything related to her own pregnancy and Leni’s delivery. Leni did not dare to mention to her mother that she had had an LSD session; she told her that she had had a “hypnotic regression” during which she had connected with a memory of what felt like her birth. However, as we had agreed in advance, she did not share with her mother any specifics concerning the content of her session.

Her mother’s story threw some extraordinary light on Leni’s experience. She shared with Leni that she had been inexperienced because this was her first pregnancy and childbirth and had not known what to expect. She was surprised and astonished by the intensity of the experience, but everything seemed to be going fine. And then something unexpected happened. The obstetrician and the nurse attending to her delivery announced that it was noontime, and they were going to take a break and “grab a sandwich.” The obstetrician asked her to cross her legs and wait for them to come back.

Leni’s mother, being an obedient patient, did not raise any objections and complied with the instructions. Fighting intense labor pains, she held her legs firmly together, awaiting the return of her caretakers. When the doctor and the nurse returned from their lunch break, all they had to do was to give her the permission to uncross her legs. When she did, Leni was literally propelled from the birth canal into the light of the day. After the telephone call with her mother, Leni shared with me this unexpected explanation for the unusual course of events in her sessions, adding another striking example to my long list of birth memories, the veracity of which could be independently validated.

THE SCENT OF FRESH LEATHER: The Story of Kurt

The second example is from a Holotropic Breathwork session of Kurt, a psychologist who participated in our European training. In the second half of his session, Kurt experienced a very deep regression and got so involved in the reliving of his birth that he had to be held down by five people because he was moving forcefully into the spaces of other people around him. He charged repeatedly with his head and turned in a spiral fashion from his back to his belly and back again. After an intense struggle, the session ended with an extraordinary breakthrough. He felt reborn and emotionally liberated.

During the sharing group, we were able to reconstruct what had happened during the session. Kurt reported that, at the beginning of his session, he identified with a scaly, wormlike creature and got involved in a number of slithering movements. Suddenly, he felt on his feet and his body sensations that he experienced as bothersome and confining. He began to fight against them, at first lightly and later with increasing strength and effort. This intensified gradually to such an extent that he was sure he was fighting for his life. He was determined never to give up, even if the entire world were against him. With loud screaming and combining strength with various tricks, he fought desperately against his powerful foes.

As we were holding him down, he was not able to distinguish the inner from the outer, in spite of the fact that I kept repeating that we were not his enemies, that we were helping him to get through. It took some time before he reached some critical insight and was able to identify this struggle as the reliving of his birth. The feeling of helplessness kept triggering in him intense resistance and determination, never resignation. He shared with us that a similar pattern had also often manifested in his everyday life. After a long struggle, Kurt’s hectic movements and loud screams eventually reached a culmination point and then abruptly subsided. He stopped fighting and moved into a phase of deep relaxation.

At this point, he decided to sit up, open his eyes, and look around. I told him it was too early and asked him to lie down and go back into the experience. A sudden realization flashed through his mind; he remembered that he had been told that his birth was premature. In that context, my comment about it being early seemed to make sense. He lay down again and covered himself with a blanket. As he was lying there curled up in a fetal position, he had the feeling that this might help him to make up for all the lost time in the womb. He found that very gratifying and beautiful, and felt contented and happy. Suddenly, he noticed to his great surprise a very intense and distinct smell of fresh leather. He smelled it again and again and found it extremely pleasant.

At the end of the session, Kurt was in a state of complete relaxation, a condition that was unfamiliar to him from his everyday life. He was normally very driven and enjoyed tackling difficult challenges and crises. He shared with the group that he was very unhappy if there were no problems in his life and adversaries against whom to fight. Then he focused on the strong and intense smell of leather, which had been such an important part of his session. He felt that this scent was somehow closely connected with his comfortable and relaxed state and kept repeating that it was the most striking and remarkable aspect of his experience. He had absolutely no idea how to account for it and found the whole situation utterly puzzling.

During the group sharing, he asked me for an explanation of why the smell of fresh leather might be such a significant part of his birth experience. I told him that fresh leather, or the smell of it, was not a typical symbolic concomitant of birth and that this was the first time I had heard anything like that. I suggested that it had to be somehow related to the actual circumstances of his delivery. However, we were not able to figure out how something like this was possible. Kurt could not stand the uncertainty, and later that evening called his mother to discuss his birth.

It turned out that during her pregnancy his mother worked in a leather shop. On the day of his birth, she stayed at work until late at night, sewing Tirol leather pants (lederhosen) on her lap. Like Leni’s mother, she was inexperienced be cause Kurt was her first child. The labor was not expected to start and when her water broke, she misinterpreted it as a problem with her urinary bladder. When she realized what was happening, Kurt was already on his way.

The delivery was rather fast, and Kurt was born on the floor near the unfinished pair of leather pants, surrounded by the smell of fresh leather, which permeated the entire workshop. Also, his early postnatal life was closely connected to the smell of fresh leather because his mother resumed her work on leather pants at home shortly after his delivery. This significant detail convinced Kurt, as well as the group, that his experience of birth was an authentic memory.

THE VISION OF THE OLD OAK TREE: The Story of Anne-Marie

This third account of a birth experience is even more extraordinary than the first two because it suggests the possibility of transmission of visual images from the mother to the fetus. It involves Anne-Marie, a thirty-year-old anthropologist, who relived her birth in a high-dose LSD session. Although it was generally recommended to stay during most of the session in a reclining position with eyes closed, she felt an irresistible urge to get up and pace around at a fairly high speed. For a while, she was also laughing hilariously and uncontrollably without knowing why. When she finally was able to lie down, the experience culminated very rapidly, and she experienced the moment of her birth. As she was emerging from the birth canal, she had a vision of a beautiful giant oak tree.

None of this made much sense, and Anne-Marie decided, like many others who have relived their birth memories with some specific details, to call her mother and find out about her delivery. Anne-Marie was from a very conservative family; her mother was very puritanical and had always tried to avoid discussions related to sex. This was the first time that they had ever had a discussion about her birth. Although her mother was somewhat reluctant to go into much detail, her account threw some interesting light on Anne-Marie’s LSD experience. She described that she was very scared and nervous in the birthing room and had to pace around much of the time to deal with her tension. She also confirmed that the doctor had given her a big dose of nitrous oxide, often referred to as “laughing gas” because it causes uncontrollable laughter.