1: Introduction Gendlin, E.T. (1993). Three assertions about the body 200912 Alfo, Shoshanna, Katarina reading (text)
Gendlin, E.T. (1993). Three assertions about the body.The Folio, 12(1), 21-33. From http://www.focusing.org/gendlin/docs/gol_2064.html
~ READING PROJECT SPANISH & ENGLISH
Three Assertions About the Body
by Eugene T. Gendlin, Ph.D., University of Chicago
How is Focusing theoretically possible? In this paper I will discuss how we can think about the living body in such a way that Focusing becomes understandable. I will discuss the body in relation to certain experiences that are more common than a felt sense.
A felt sense comes. It isn’t just there waiting. We have to let it form and come. That takes at least a few moments, sometimes longer. So we understand that a felt sense is a certain development, a certain bit of further life-process. What does it stem from? How can we think about ordinary events and experience in such a way that we could understand what a felt sense is and how it forms?
A felt sense is distinctly something there, something with a life of its own, that we attend to directly. If we attend to our bodies, in the middle of the body it comes, and then it is in an odd sort of space of its own. It brings its own space. In that space the felt sense is a direct object, that, there.
Let me discuss some experiences that are like a felt sense except that they have not yet formed into such a distinct, direct object. Most people don’t know to turn their attention to their bodies so that these experiences could form and come as a felt sense. Or, sometimes they do become a distinct felt sense, but not because the person deliberately lets it come. Such experiences are, therefore, spread out along a continuum from being hardly noticed all the way to coming as a felt sense.
That kind of experience is known by everyone in a way, yet hardly anyone knows it, as one simply knows other things. Everyone has at times had it, and yet–isn’t this odd?–hardly anyone talks about it. Our language has no name for it.
I often use this example because everyone recognizes it: Waking in the morning, sometimes you know you had a dream, although you don’t remember the dream. You know because the dream has left a certain odd feeling, a unique quality. If you try to verbalize it, you might say: “It feels ….., well ….., not exactly scary, not happy either, not guilty, not sad ….., uhm …..” It is a nameless feeling that belongs just to that dream. If you tap and touch and taste that nameless feeling, the whole dream may suddenly pop out of it. All those many events of the dream were somehow compressed into that small, nameless feeling. (See Let Your Body Interpret Your Dreams.)