Let’s start from the end to understand where the hypnosis began. My right hand is under a ripe pomegranate, holding it, and someone is cutting the twig that holds it. The tree stands in Milton Erickson’s garden and the knife belongs to his son-in-law Dave.
It is a precious gift that comes as a magic day draws to an end, a day in which Milton has welcomed me, confused me and then guided me, showing me the places and the stories of his passing. He has done this through the people who knew him and have been touched by his light.
One step back and we find ourselves in the waiting room of doctor Erickson’s small office, sitting on that couch where hundreds of people waited for their appointment with destiny, their encounter with the master and true contact with themselves.
The clock stops and goes more than thirty years back: Dave, Cecile and Kathryne Rossi are talking as Fulvia and I listen in religious silence. The hypnosis flows through all of us and Milton shows himself in the words of everyone telling these stories that just emerge without belonging to anybody.
Everything being said right now concerns only me and the transformation which is occurring. The electric heater is sizzling loudly even though the plug isn’t connected and right now it is the most natural thing in the world.
Cecile, who took care of Elizabeth, Erickson’s wife, until her death, tells us about an Italian couple that came to visit. They had taken some pictures of the rooms and then, to Elizabeth’s great surprise, they asked her let them have a picture of the three of them taken, right on this couch where we are sitting. Elizabeth was so pleased about that.
Cecile is talking about them, and Milton is talking to us. He is asking me something. I let a few minutes go by so that the moment may manifest itself and I ask her to let us have a picture of the three of us taken, right on this couch. She is both surprised and pleased.
She didn’t think she was important enough to deserve a picture. I let my unconscious speak and I tell her something I have no right to say: she is the most fitting person to perform the task of taking care of this magical and silent place where presences must be protected. Embarrassed, she smiles and tells me that it was actually Elizabeth who took care of her, often telling her: “I can’t always be playing with you.”
One step further back and Dave and I are sitting in Erickson’s office, he in the patient’s chair and me in Milton’s. Dave imitates the tone of Erickson’s voice as he tells him to stare at the corner of his desk. He looks at me intensely and I allow my gaze to rest on that corner. I see the shape of the objects around me changing and I perceive Milton’s quietness flowing through me. I am wholly in a present which comprises all that is, all that was and all that will be. I keep on looking at Dave, who is so much like Milton, that I have to smile, amused, as if Milton had planned one of his jokes just to confuse my ordinary awareness.
One more step back, and we are at the foot of Squaw Peak, the small mountain to the top of which Erickson used to send some of his patients to distract them from their problem and bring them back to the present, in every action and movement necessary to reach the summit. Milton never climbed that mountain and has done so only after his death, when his ashes caressed the thousands of rocks, each different from the other, losing himself and finding himself once again in the wind. Dave shows us the mountain from one side and then from the other side. He gives us the task to climb to the top tomorrow morning, but he won’t come up. He wants me only to remember that on Squaw Peak, each time you think you have reached the summit, there is always further to go before you get to the peak, whatever the point you reach is.
One last step back and I find myself on the mountain beside Squaw Peak. I am alone, high up. I am looking for the blue marks that indicate the path which should circle back down bringing me to the base of the mountain. I stop, understanding that there is no reason to climb higher. I look down and enclosed between the desert mountains lies a beautiful valley of surreal green.
I start descending and with every step I take, I hear the noise of the rocks crumbling. There are only rocks and cacti. Going down I meet three lizards in succession, each ine walking in a different direction: the first one is small and climbs towards the peak, the second one is black and crosses the path from right to left and the third one is big, intense green and goes down towards the valley. I keep going down and find the path again. In that instant, my mind goes back to Erickson’s office and it is Cecile speaking. She tells me about the dozens of snails that come into the garden and about her senseless fear. And then suddenly Elizabeth’s words are in her head: always remember that God never created an evil creature.
Just yesterday, I was in San Francisco and the seminar on ABC counseling was a huge success: it is an honor to have had Suzi Smith and Judith De Lozier among the participants. I feel a deep sense of gratitude for all that life is offering me.
The time has come to use my hands to open the pomegranate and to share the infinite abundance of the wonderful red seeds of life.
