Rhythmic Movement as a Vital Trauma Response

Cornelia Elbrecht AThR, SEP, ANZACATA, IEATA

In recent weeks I find myself watching dance and movement video clips wherever they appear on social media. My soul craves them. On the days when I cannot go out and walk, I turn off all the lights at night, search for streaming Gabrielle Roth and dance to the 5 Rhythms in the dark. The many posts on Facebook inviting me to visit famous art galleries all over the world, to take virtual tours through the pyramids, and glide along the walls of the Sistine Chapel soon feel strenuous, like yet another thing to focus on. My eyes are hurting from too much screen time and the incessant online bombardment with visual stimuli.

What is happening is unprecedented. As a trauma therapist I know about complex trauma, accidents and disasters, but this “enemy” is invisible and lingering, possibly for months and years to come. As Cathy Malchiodi put it: we are in for a marathon, not a sprint. The danger is not necessarily imminent, yet an undercurrent of threat is palpable, even without turning on the news. Thank goodness there is the internet. The various platforms have allowed us to stay connected with family and friends, colleagues and clients. I assume I am not the only one with a steep learning curve in how to facilitate telehealth sessions and run online group meetings.

But I have also noticed something else. I want to read books printed on paper. I want to do gardening and touch my cats. Many friends have begun making bread. The disembodied Skype, Zoom and Facetime conversations mess with the human animal in us. Amber Elizabeth Gray aptly discussed this on Facebook last week validating the “cognitive dissonance that is created by the phenomenon of being together-but-not-really-together”, when she shared a Twitter feed by Gianpiero Petriglieri:

“𝘐 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵. 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵, 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘥. 𝘞𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵.”

Contact is far more a felt sense experience than we tend to acknowledge. Reducing our connection with others to a virtual head shot and the exchange of words without warmth, without the constant flow of mirror neuron messages, without all the implicit cues that bring relationships to life, being internet-connected becomes a strangely dissociated business.

This is why I need to dance, exercise and walk. I need to ground myself. I need to get out of my head and connect with my life force. As a trauma therapist I know that threat can easily shut down or distort cognitive processing, and that resolutions come primarily from connecting with implicit action patterns in the brain stem. Only through stimulating the most ancient part of the brain, that we share in evolutionary terms with crocodiles and fish, can we find adequate survival responses. In order to settle and downregulate the autonomic nervous system, these responses need to be simple, rhythmic and be movement based. You can imagine every cell in your body moving like a jellyfish; each one contracting and expanding, contracting and expanding in rhythmic repetition. Hence all the free lectures on the world-wide web that are only engaging the visual function in our cognitive brain are easily strenuous and hard to focus on for any length of time, whereas rhythmic patterning brings relief: drumming, cycling, running, dancing, working out, whatever suits you best. It reminds us of being alive.

Globally, as human herd animals, we are all living in a heightened state of alarm. When I watch the kangaroos on my walks, my movements or the breaking of a twig will prompt all of them to jump and flee. Just like them, we are all on the run at present, internally. It does not even take the additional threats of economic hardship, homelessness, domestic violence and abuse due to all these stressors. The undercurrent of anxiety and uncertainly is confusing, it is exhausting, and it will bring many to a mental health breaking point.

These are unprecedented experiences and we have no formula how to deal with them. Also, the future is blurry at best. What new normal awaits us in the next few months and years to come? This is an invisible “enemy”, and while there is much talk about “war”, we do not know when, where and how this virus may or may not infect us.

Those of you who know my work will be familiar with the emphasis I pay to rhythmic repetition through bilateral drawing or engaging at the Clay Field. I can only encourage you to find your way of connecting with your body through movement and rhythm. Breathe, sweat, and move. Breathe and move. It will reduce your inner tension, lower anxiety levels and prevent you from feeling overwhelmed.

References:

• Elbrecht, Cornelia. Healing trauma with guided drawing; a sensorimotor art therapy approach to bilateral body mapping. Berkeley CA; North Atlantic Books 2018
• Elbrecht, Cornelia. Artist Block, Connecting with Creative Flow; www.sensorimotorarttherapy.com 2020
• Roth, Gabrielle. www.5rhythms.com
• Malchiodi, Cathy. We Are the Canaries in the Mental Health Mineshaft
  https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/arts-and-health/202004/we-are-the-canaries-in-the-mental-health-mineshaft?eml