“If you can manage to hiccup another ten times, you can have an ice cream,” said Nikolas to Vita and started counting, “1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9…” He never reached 10, but she got the ice cream anyway.

“If You Can Manage…” demonstrates how symptoms which occur spontaneously can be eliminated by an attempt to induce them intentionally (symptom prescription).

(From: Stefan Hammel: Handbook of Therapeutic Storytelling. Sories and Metaphors in Psychotherapy, Child and Family Therapy, Medical Treatment, Coaching and Supervision, Routledge 2019)

Dear friends, colleagues, customers!

I deleted my X-account on December 22, 2024.

I will delete other social media accounts if they or their leaders actively work against respect, human dignity and democracy.

In doing so, I am sending out my own personal, tiny signal against hatred, the glorification of racist, fascist, anti-democratic politics and currently against interference in democratic processes, such as the election campaign in Germany – and I am happy for anyone who shows their appreciation for democracy and self-determination in exactly the same way.

There are certainly many other ways to stand up for values on social media, but this is one way (and not the only one) that I take a stand for values and against misanthropy and anti-democracy. (I will certainly buy an electric car next, but definitely not an Elon M. brand car – for the same reason).

Happy New Year to you all,

Stefan

“Fetch Timo!” shouted all the children. Up until then challenging my Year Six pupils to arm wrestling matches had been good fun, but Timo – a member of the other Year Six class who had now appeared in my classroom – was built on an entirely different scale to your average Year Six pupil. He looked at me through his thick glasses with a friendly gaze, sat down opposite me and held out a giant paw. I could think of little worse than being beaten at arm wrestling by a Year Six pupil, but could not help wondering whether there was any way for me to win. I did not want to lose, but there was no avoiding the situation when his arm was already stretched out in front of me. What should I do? I imagined that my arm was a large steel bracket, welded and bolted like the massive steel roof girders which tower over vast railway station concourses. I no longer saw an arm; I only saw a girder staying rigidly in position up in the roof. Timo pressed his hand against the steel girder for a long, long time. When his arm finally trembled, I very slowly tipped the girder over and let it topple under its enormous weight, burying Timo’s arm below the roof of the station concourse. I had won.

“Arm Wrestling” describes a method of muscular stiffening with simultaneous analgesia. The general trance phenomenon of catalepsy is heightened and strengthened by an additional visual/imaginative suggestion, and a similar procedure is followed for the numbing of any pain; as well as the fundamental anaesthetic effect of tranceinduced relaxation, it is implied that a steel girder cannot feel pain. There are certain risks and side effects involved with this story; it took three weeks for the damaged muscle fibres in my arm to heal and the pain to disappear.

(From: Stefan Hammel: Handbook of Therapeutic Storytelling. Sories and Metaphors in Psychotherapy, Child and Family Therapy, Medical Treatment, Coaching and Supervision, Routledge 2019)

One of the games we used to play at school was to stretch a rubber band between two fingers of one hand and then shoot folded bits of paper at the other pupils, or even at the teacher when his back was turned at the blackboard. It was against the school rules, of course, but it was still great fun and a good way of keeping boredom at bay. A sawn-off forked branch and a rubber ring from a preserving jar could be used in a similar way to make a stone catapult, and even now I still often think of these different kinds of catapults.

Sometimes wrinkles appear on my face because I am afraid, annoyed, sympathetic or troubled. I know that if they become a fixed part of my repertoire of facial expressions, in a few years’ time these expressions will turn into basic facial characteristics which determine my neutral appearance regardless of my mood – wrinkles and all. This is not what I want, and it is also not what I need.

My face muscles are like a worry catapult which is stretched between my ears. Whenever my skin tenses up in one spot and forms wrinkles in another, and whenever a particular level of tension has been exceeded, the catapult goes “pop” and the muscles relax. All the worries, all the annoyance, all the anger – catapulted away into time and space. Sometimes they are fired into nothingness, and sometimes they are sent to someone who – unlike me – will give them a good home. The only thing left on my face is a smile, as I know that the worry wrinkles have not made a home for themselves this time.

“The Worry Catapult” is an intervention which can be used at a somatic level to avoid or reduce stress-related facial wrinkles, at an emotional level for relaxation and at a social level to practice new behavioural patterns for dealing with interpersonal stress. The procedure is similar to the “clenched fist” technique, a “method which can be used by a child to ‘throw away’ tension and problems by clenching [and then relaxing] his or her fist.” (Olness & Kohen, 2001.)

(From: Stefan Hammel: Handbook of Therapeutic Storytelling. Sories and Metaphors in Psychotherapy, Child and Family Therapy, Medical Treatment, Coaching and Supervision, Routledge 2019)