Figure 7.1 Sandro Botticelli, ‘Primavera’, ca. 1482
In the eyes of the beholder©
Tina Stromsted
What does it mean to be seen, to be heard, and to be received for who we are? To experience ourselves as real people, and to belong? Promoting these experiences is at the core of witnessing practice. When such deeply human needs have not been met in a person’s early development or have been thwarted or injured through subsequent life experiences, they can be fostered through the practice of moving and witnessing in Authentic Movement.
A form of dance/movement therapy, Authentic Movement was originated by pioneer dance therapist Mary Starks Whitehouse in California in the 1950s–1970s, and has continued to evolve and thrive in many parts of the world. 1 A modern dancer and dance teacher, Whitehouse sought to better understand the interrelationships between body, psyche, and spirit (Whitehouse, 1958/1999), and engaged in Jungian analysis followed by studies in Jungian depth-psychology in Zurich. Applying Jung’s active imagination method (Chodorow, 1997, 2006; Jung, 1916/1957, 1928/1966, 1955/1970) to movement experience, she developed a way to support people in fostering self-awareness and accessing unconscious processes through embodied exploration. The practice allowed for the development of the authentic self, a greater sense of well-being, self-knowledge and a deepened connection with others and with life’s sacred dimension. Embodiment is a felt sense of aliveness and well-being in the body, and an awareness of one’s whole being in the present moment. Authentic Movement helps people re-inhabit their body through a natural process (Stromsted, 1995; Stromsted and Sieff, 2015).
In Authentic Movement practice, the mover/client closes her eyes, waits, and then, in the presence of her witness/therapist, moves in response to body-felt sensations, movement impulses, emotions, memories, dreams, and/or internal images. The opportunity to be ‘seen’ by a witness who is not watching or observing the mover, but rather holding her in a receptive, compassionate gaze – without interpretation or judgment – allows the mover to experience and to follow the immediacy of her own authentic experience safely. While teaching, I often say to my students that, in this practice, ‘my body is my teacher, and I am the student who follows’. In this way, the mover can reconnect with her instinctual ground of being, discovering and transforming emotions and undeveloped capacities held in the body beneath the level of consciousness. During the mover’s explorations, her witness sits to the side with her eyes open, bringing a sense of quiet warmth, receptive focus, and presence to the space. She also monitors the time allowed for the session and maintains an awareness of her own embodied experience.
Figure 7.1 Sandro Botticelli, ‘Primavera’, ca. 1482
Following the movement session, the mover often shares significant moments from her movement journey and receives verbal reflection from her witness if she wishes. Witnessing (W) language is rooted in describing movement literally, using the present tense to stay with the immediacy of the experience (Stromsted and Haze, 2007, p. 65). For example, ‘I see your head bow down and a tear stream down your cheek; as I see this, I feel a release in my jaw and softening and warmth in my chest’. This language of neutral observation is used instead of interpretation, such as: ‘I see you crying and bowing your head, so I imagine that you are ashamed’. Sometimes witnesses share images that come to them as well, though they are careful to own them as their own. This leaves the mover free to be curious about them, without needing to take them on.
As such, witnessing represents a departure from the interpretive language that is often a part of psychotherapy. In this way, the mover remains the expert of her own experience, a democratic format that allows each to be in the other’s presence.
Over the years, I have found that witnesses who are psychotherapists often make interpretations, as they have been trained to do in verbal psychotherapy, thinking that it was helpful to the mover. However, in some of these instances, the mover experiences a sense of being hurt, judged, or simply unseen following her movement, at a time when she is deeply vulnerable. I have often heard witnesses, with the best of intentions, unconsciously using evaluative language like ‘You looked a little stiff’, ‘I wish you’d kept going with that’, or even, ‘You were absolutely beautiful!’ This last sounds affirming, but it may leave the mover with the take-away message that she needs to be beautiful for her witnesses (Stromsted, 2015, p. 348). Thus, the witness needs to strip language down to its essential ingredients, stay true to the mover’s personal metaphors, and acknowledge his or her own embodied experience as a witness, when asked. To this end, Janet Adler introduced the concept of ‘percept language’ adapted from her studies with psychologist John Weir (Haze and Stromsted, 1994/1999, p. 114). Using ‘I’ statements to own one’s experience, this non-judgmental, non-interpretive way of speaking provides additional clarity, safety, and depth for movers and witnesses alike.
The seeds of Authentic Movement work began decades before Whitehouse developed a distinct method. In a journal entry, writing around 1924, Tina Keller, a patient of Jung’s who later worked with his associate Toni Wolff (Keller, 1972; Keller-Jenny, 1982; Keller, in Swan, 2012; Oppikofer, 2015) describes her experience of moving in an analytic hour:
When I was in analysis with Miss Toni Wolff, I often had the feeling that something in me hidden deep inside wanted to express itself; but I also knew that this ‘something’ had no words. As we were looking for another means of expression, I suddenly had the idea: ‘I could dance it’. Miss Wolff encouraged me to try. The body sensation I felt was oppression; the image came that I was inside a stone and had to release myself from it to emerge as a separate, self-standing individual. The movements that grew out of the body sensations had the goal of my liberation from the stone just as the image had. It took a good deal of the hour. After a painful effort I stood there, liberated. This very freeing event was much more potent than the hours in which we only talked. This was a ‘psychodrama’ of an inner happening, or that which Jung had named ‘active imagination’. Only here it was the body that took the active part.
(Keller, 1972, p. 22, translated by R. Oppikofer)
Healing Movement has been practiced from the beginning of human history. Among traditional peoples, shamans allowed themselves to ‘be moved’ from an inner source, opening to a spirited upwelling of sensory and imaginal experiences to express themselves through dance (Eliade, 1964; Stromsted, 1995; Wosein 1974). Communities acted as collective witnesses, forming an outer circle to contain the dance, so that the dancer/Shaman could be free to deeply follow what was moving him or her from within. Authentic Movement occurs in a similar way, within a safe container provided by witnesses, though the emphasis is not on fostering trance states, but on the development of individual and collective consciousness. Also known as Active Imagination in Movement, the practice allows the mover to bring awareness to his embodied experience in the present moment, attending to it as it unfolds without agenda or plan. This supports the development of emotional intelligence as primal affects are experienced in the body, explored, brought to consciousness, and gradually integrated into a more whole personality. Genuine feelings emerge enhancing self-knowledge and connection, rather than being repressed, polished for ‘political correctness’, ‘acted out’ in the world, or turned inward in potentially self-destructive cognitions and behaviors. Over time this cultivates embodied presence and empathy – one’s capacity to hold and receive the depths of another’s experience. Simple in format, this approach allows for a range and depth of experience and is practiced in both individual and group settings.
The mover–witness process has parallels to the process of child development. D.W. Winnicott, a child psychoanalyst and pediatrician, spoke of the importance of the mother’s gaze for an integrated sense of self, a sense of ‘being real’. Self-psychologist Heinz Kohut described this responsiveness as the ‘gleam in the mother’s eye’ that gives the child a sense of being safe, secure and loved (Kohut, 1966, p. 251). The mother’s face is the ‘precursor of the mirror’ (Winnicott, 1971, p. 111), reflecting her pleasure in her baby. When the baby sees his mother’s loving expression, he feels lovable and good. Over time, as the baby sees himself in her ‘mirror’, he comes to see himself. As Winnicott says, ‘When I look, I am seen, so I exist’ (1971, p. 114).
But how does healing occur when the gaze has been distorted, or less than loving? Parents may not have received enough emotional containment and empathic mirroring themselves. When this is the case, they are thwarted in being able to embody their own genuineness, their own sense of goodness/ enoughness, to mirror and pass down this sense of wholeness and goodness to their children. Kohut asserted that parents’ failures in empathizing with their children – and their children’s responses to these failures – were ‘at the root of almost all psychopathology’ (Nersessian and Kopff, 1996, p. 661).
Witnessing helps address this by providing a relational environment that can reflect the ‘real self’. Crucial to the process of witnessing is the quality of the witness’ gaze. Having a ‘good enough’ witness/therapist/mother-figure (Winnicott, 1971, p. 81) who is capable of containing the mover’s experience makes it possible to explore unconscious material safely, within a ‘free and sheltered space’ (Kalff, 1980, p. 29). This allows for regression – which is necessary in order to access earlier developmental experiences – as well as exploration, expression, reintegration, and transformation. It also allows for new experiences, as the mover feels safe enough to leave the familiar shore and embark on a deeper journey. Over time, the experience of being held and mirrored by an attuned witness allows the mover to develop an ‘inner witness’ (Adler, 2003/2007, p. 25; Sager, 2015; Stromsted, 2009, p. 207), a capacity to pause, contain, and reflect on her own experience. This brings about a deeper sense of embodied awareness, emotional literacy, and discernment, an embodied wisdom that becomes a potent guide in the person’s life.
The following example illustrates how the witness helps the mover explore painful emotions generated by childhood and adult relationships, integrating them into a more fully embodied sense of self:
‘Elia,’ the mover, has just gone through a wrenching breakup with her partner when she meets with her Authentic Movement peer group. At first, she walks aimlessly, meandering around the circle with her eyes closed. Sensing the warmth of a pool of light she comes to a standstill and begins to play with the material of the baggy white blouse she is wearing, swooping her arms up and away from her body in wide, vigorous arcs and figure eights. Gradually she comes to a pause, wraps her arms around her chest, and begins to sway.
Following Elia’s sharing of her experience in the circle, a witness says that at first she feels distraught as Elia walks in different directions throughout the space. Then, as Elia pauses and swings her arms the witness feels strength in her spine and torso, with a growing sense of warmth and comfort as Elia begins to sway. ‘Throughout your movement I find myself very drawn to your feet’, her witness recalls. Elia responds that it is affirming to hear the witness’ experience, and that the attention to her feet helps bring her own awareness from her upper body down to her feet, helping her feel more grounded during a time of disorientation. A second witness shares that as Elia makes figure eights with her billowing blouse that an image of ‘a sailboat with gusts of wind filling its big white sail’ comes to her, ‘moving as if lost at sea before finding its home harbor.’ ‘I feel really sad and unmoored at first’, she says, ‘then revitalized as you play with your shirt; and at peace when you come to a resting place at the end.’ Elia nods and responds, ‘Hearing your feelings and the image of the sail boat coming into harbor helps me find meaning in my movement. I feel seen at a really painful time in my journey. Now I can begin to find my way home.’
Following the movement session, Elia journals about her experience and remembers the anguish she felt when her mother left her father when she was five years old. Her breath releases and tears come, softening her jaw and her heart as a new sense of spaciousness and belonging emerge.
Here we see how sensation, movement, emotion, image, and memory come together generating an integrative, embodied experience in the safety of a contained space of conscious, compassionate witnesses.
Witnessing also helps mitigate the rise of narcissism, the ‘me-first-and-most’ character traits that a growing percentage of our population – including our world leaders – suffer from. One might even understand the rampant use of ‘selfies’ as a symptom of insufficient, inaccurate mirroring. Witnessing provides a safe container (temenos) from which the authentic self can emerge, from beneath the ‘adapted’ or socialized ‘false self’ (Winnicott, 1965, p. 140). This is increasingly important in today’s world, where one’s outer image must be manicured, managed, and ‘branded’, converting personhood into a commodity valued in terms of beauty, fame, or net worth, threatening to overshadow genuine feelings, experience, and meaningful relationships.
In an Authentic Movement group I facilitated in East Asia, a participant reported the following dream:
‘I am alone on the top floor of a tall skyscraper; when I look out the window I tumble down toward the sidewalk below. Though I am terrified that I will die from the impact, I wake up before I land.’ Afterward, I ask her if it would be okay for me to slowly mirror the movements I saw her do as she shared her dream. Her shoulders had been pulled in and raised up around her ears, her breath shallow, her eyes wide and her mouth turned down.
My mirroring gave her a sudden insight. ‘It’s as if I’m coming down from the tower of my head where I have been living, finding my way to earth. I didn’t even know how much I lived there, until I was afraid of falling . . . But you are catching me now’. Ultimately, the witness was doing what the mover’s own mother had not done: provide a safe container, mirror her feelings, and accept her body, so that she could inhabit it. ‘When I was born, [my mother] was profoundly disappointed; while she was pregnant she went to a doctor and a shaman to get medicines, herbs and prayers to be sure I’d be a boy and has always been angry with me for being a girl. . . . I could feel my curves on the floor yesterday, and felt safe and accepted for who I am. Today is the first day that I can feel that I have a woman’s body’. In this movement exploration and integrative dream sequence, we see a young woman ‘descend’ into her softening body. The process brought consciousness to her cellular experience. Her emotions opened, she began to grieve, and was joined by many other women in the workshop who resonated with her experience of being a woman in a culture in which women are to be accommodating and men tend to be more prized.
Witnessing practice can also be deeply moving and healing for the witnesses themselves. As a witness maintains an open, receptive presence she may be deeply touched by what she sees and senses, as her mover engages experiences that go to the deepest levels of human experience. Some years ago, a participant in a cancer recovery group asked me whether, in my own psychotherapy practice, I was the mover and my client the witness. When I looked surprised, she explained, ‘I felt so deeply touched by witnessing my mover that it brought tears, and such warmth in my heart’. This sense of being profoundly moved by another’s humanity is a feeling that I, too, have experienced on many occasions. ‘When two strings of an instrument resonate . . . each is changed by the impact of the other’ (Siegel, 2010, p. 54).
What about the science behind the gaze? Advances in interpersonal neuroscience indicate that witnessing is supported by the mirror neuron system, among others. This system is thought to be the root of empathy, contributing to our capacity to ‘resonate’ with another (Cozolino, 2006, p. 187; Gallese, 2003). Mirror neurons ‘fire’ in the brain of a witness when she observes her mover performing an action that is familiar to her (Berrol, 2006; Damasio, 2010, p. 104). In this way, ‘We pick up not only another person’s movement but her emotional state and intentions as well’ (van der Kolk, 2014, p. 59).
Though the witness may resonate with her mover’s experience, she maintains a quality of stillness, containing the mover’s response instead of enacting it in the moment. As she ‘holds space’ for her mover’s experience and for her own, information from her body – particularly from the primitive, survival-oriented areas in the brain stem and limbic system – forge links and deeper levels of connectivity and integration with the higher cortical centers in the brain (the prefrontal cortex). This provides an opportunity to reflect on and bring language to what she is sensing and feeling. The process of pausing, breathing, and bringing sustained attention to one’s own responses and ‘knee-jerk’ reactions quiets the limbic system, invokes the parasympathetic (rest/ digest) nervous system, and supports insight, self-knowledge, and self-regulation.
The presence of an empathic witness also supports the mover in widening what psychiatrist and neuroscience author Daniel Siegel calls the ‘affect window of tolerance’ (Ogden and Fisher, 2015; Siegel, 2010, p. 252). Intolerable emotions can arise in the presence of others, as old relational issues surface. These are often accompanied by affects that weren’t acceptable to one’s parents, which resulted in shaming, abandonment, or abuse. Therefore, working with a safe witness can make it possible for the client to begin to tolerate a wider range of feelings – such as hate, rage, shame, contempt, disgust, grief, hope, and love – experience them safely in the body, become curious about them, and explore them in a relational context. This, in turn, helps to create trust, repair early wounding, and foster the development of healthy attachment and a capacity for more flexible, reciprocal relating. This is essential for self-care, for relating to others, and for preserving and fostering community (Homann, 2017; Keleman, 1985; Schore, 2012; Schore and Sieff, 2015; Siegel, 2010, p. 55; Wilkinson, 2010, p. 46).
Witnessing is not only important in the therapeutic process, but crucial for our development as human beings. It helps prepare us to become family members, friends, parents, workers, and world citizens. ‘Having been seen’ with all of our contradictions in the wholeness of our experience enables us to see others, including ‘others’ who are not like us: children at school, colleagues in work settings, partners/spouses, our own children, people on the street, citizens of other countries, those who have emigrated from other parts of the world, and those who were born in our own country but look different from us.
Authentic Movement practice is deeply shaped by different cultures, and yet opens to profoundly universal, archetypal experiences as well. For example, while teaching in Japan, I learned that direct eye contact is sometimes experienced as intrusive, and that bowing is the accustomed way to greet someone. I invited movers and witnesses to explore a soft gaze that included the face and shoulders of their partner, rather than focusing on the eyes. In groups in Argentina where there is a history of dictators, military juntas, and ‘disappeared’ people, movements expressing protective containment and discipline oscillated with those of smoldering wildness and the elegant intimacy of tango! Also notable was a deep capacity for reflectiveness, resilience, and passion in connection. Moving and witnessing in post-Apartheid South Africa affirmed the importance of re-connecting with their deeper cultural heritage, integrating more ‘non-traditional’ embodied approaches into contemporary verbal psychotherapy. My experience in these and other cultural settings has helped me gain a deeper appreciation for the diversity both in the mover, and in the projections, biases and new learnings possible in the ‘eyes of the beholder’.
The body is home to the senses, feelings, thoughts, breath, memories, dreams, and all of life’s experiences; it is the bedrock of who we are. Being ‘in touch’ with oneself is the root of empathy; without it, other people’s feelings don’t register in us, or do not matter. This creates an environment where one must live from ‘image’, a condition promulgated by consumerist culture. Being split off from our bodies also means being disconnected from others and from the world around us. This not only leads to a sense of alienation, both from ourselves and from others, but ultimately creates the conditions for unrestrained aggression, including bullying, shaming, and other acts of violence. Distorted, paranoid attempts to maintain boundaries between ‘us’ and ‘them’ become rigidly maintained for paranoid safety. This is like an autoimmune disease in the cultural body, which seeks to reject what could help it grow.
Today children and adults in industrialized cultures are learning to occupy themselves in isolation, and to work without time boundaries via the ever-available email, text, or tweet. In industrialized countries, children do much of their work on personal computers or iPads, rather than engaging in games that involve safe touch or physical proximity to others. In this setting, children now are learning to self-regulate through machines rather than learning to co-regulate in a healthy, reciprocal way with others. Adults are also profoundly impacted by their use of technology. Astonishingly, even the number of adults who are on their smartphones while having sex is on the rise (Porges, 2016). Though it’s beyond the scope of this chapter, implications of this ‘selfie culture’ deserve more attention. We want to be seen, known, and accepted for who we are. It’s a profoundly human need, as is contact and co-regulation through the intersubjective dance of relationship with others. These are among the reasons that witnessing is so relevant for contemporary practice.
A common side effect of trauma is to feel that we must do everything alone (Kalsched, 2013). This is a natural reaction to feeling endangered or neglected by others – including early caretakers – resulting in a profound lack of trust in our environment. Authentic Movement is an active, relational approach that helps repair attachment wounds, allowing us to rebuild trust in our own bodily responses, in others, and in our vital connection to the natural world and the cosmos. Shakespeare said the eyes are the windows to the soul. Witnessing practice invites us to ‘see’ with the heart and with all of our senses, a practice that transforms both the ‘seer’ and what is seen and helps make the world a better place.
1 As a full history of witnessing practice is beyond the scope of this chapter I’d like to acknowledge the major contributions of three pioneering teachers of this approach: dance therapist Mary Starks Whitehouse, innovator of Authentic Movement, and two of her students, dance therapist and Jungian analyst Joan Chodorow and teacher of the Discipline of Authentic Movement, Janet Adler. Jungian analyst Marion Woodman has also deepened our understanding of the interrelationship of psyche and soma and the cultivation of embodied presence (Woodman, 1993). Their writings are rich with embodied descriptions, spirited inquiry, psychological insights, and more; I highly recommend them. Subsequent generations of practitioners have furthered moving and witnessing practice, including diverse perspectives and applications in the arts, education, medical recovery, differing levels of physical abilities, diversity awareness, conflict mediation, mystical practice, and eco-psychology. Readers interested in learning more about the fundamentals of Authentic Movement are referred to Pallaro’s excellent 1999 and 2007 collections. Further resources include: Corrigall, et al., 2006; Whatley, et al., 2015; the Authentic Movement Community Website; and others.
Adler, J. (2007). From autism to the discipline of authentic movement. In P. Pallaro (Ed.), Authentic Movement: Moving the Body, Moving the Self, Being Moved: A Collection of Essays (Vol. 2, pp. 24–31). Philadelphia, PA: Jessica Kingsley. (Original work published 2003)
Authentic Movement Community Website: www.authenticmovementcommunity.org/.
Berrol, C. (2006). Neuroscience meets dance/movement therapy: Mirror neurons, the therapeutic process and empathy. The Arts in Psychotherapy, 33, 302–315.
Chodorow, J. (Ed.). (1997). Jung on Active Imagination. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Chodorow, J. (2006). Active imagination. In R. Papadopoulos (Ed.), The Handbook of Jungian Psychology: Theory, Practice and Application (pp. 215–243). London: Routledge.
Corrigall, J., Payne, H., and Wilkinson H. (Eds.). (2006). About a Body: Working with the Embodied Mind in Psychotherapy. New York: Routledge.
Cozolino, L. (2006). The Neuroscience of Human Relationships: Attachment and the Developing Brain. New York: W.W. Norton.
Damasio, A. (2010). Self Comes to Mind: Constructing the Conscious Brain. New York: Pantheon Books.
Eliade, M. (1964). Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Gallese, V. (2003). The roots of empathy: The shared manifold hypothesis and the neural basis of intersub-jectivity. Psychopathology, 36, 171–180.
Haze, N., and Stromsted, T. (1999). An interview with Janet Adler. In P. Pallaro (Ed.), Authentic Movement: Essays by Mary Starks Whitehouse, Janet Adler, and Joan Chodorow (pp. 107–120). London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. (Original work published 1994)
Homann, K. (2017). Dynamic equilibrium: Engaging neurophysiological intelligences through dance/ movement therapy. In H. Payne (Ed.), Essentials of Dance Movement Psychotherapy: International Perspectives on Theory, Research, and Practice. London: Routledge.
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Jung, C. G. (1966). The technique of differentiation between the ego and the figures of the unconscious. Collected Works, 7. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. (Original work published 1928)
Jung, C. G. (1970). Mysterium coniunctionis. Collected Works, 14. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. (Original work published 1955)
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Keleman, S. (1985). Emotional Anatomy: The Structure of Experience. Berkeley, CA: Center Press.
Keller, T. (1972). IV. Körperempfindung und bewegung in der psychotherapie [Chapter IV. Body awareness and movement in psychotherapy]. In Wege inneren Wachstums: Aus Meinen Erinnerungen an C. G. Jung [Pathways to Inner Growth from my Memories of C. G. Jung] (pp. 22–27). Erlenbach ZH, Switzerland: Bircher-Benner Verlag.
Keller-Jenny, T. (1982). Beginnings of active imagination: Analysis with C.G. Jung and Toni Wolff, 1915–1928. In J. Hillman (Ed.) Spring Journal Books, 279–294. Ne w Orleans, LA.
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Pallaro, P. (Ed.). (2007). Authentic Movement: Moving the Body, Moving the Self, Being Moved: A Collection of Essays (Vol. 2). Philadelphia, PA: Jessica Kingsley.
Porges, S. W. (2016, April 22). Connectedness as a biological imperative: Understanding the consequences of trauma, abuse, and chronic stress through the lens of the Polyvagal Theory. Keynote lecture presented at the ADTA 51st National Dance Therapy Conference, Bethesda, MD.
Sager, P. (2015). Journey of the inner witness: A path of development. Journal of Dance and Somatic Practices: Authentic Movement: Defining the Field, 7(2), 365–376.
Schore, A. N. (2012). The Science of the Art of Psychotherapy. New York: W.W. Norton.
Schore, A. N., and Sieff, D. (2015). On the same wave-length: How our emotional brain is shaped by human relationships. In D. Sieff (Ed.), Understanding and Healing Emotional Trauma: Conversations with Pioneering Clinicians and Researchers (pp. 11–136). London: Routledge.
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