Mindfulness
and Stuttering: How can mindfulness help?
By Paul Brocklehurst PhD.
The Stammering Self-Empowerment Programme www.stammeringresearch.org
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In this
article I will focus on the specific ways in which mindfulness practice may
help people gain control over their stuttering. I will also discuss how
“mindful speaking” can play a role in therapy. I don’t intend to go into a lot
of detail about what mindfulness is, because there are already plenty of
publications available that do this. However, I will start with a brief summary
of what mindfulness practice entails. This summary reflects my background,
which is rooted in Zen practice, some aspects of which may not shared by
mindfulness practitioners from other backgrounds. I recommend reading around
the topic so that ultimately you can form your own opinions. In the second half
of this article I describe my own personal experience of mindfulness practice
and its impact, over the years, on my stuttering and on myself.
Stated most
simply, mindfulness practice is all about paying attention. It can be divided
into two types: (1) passively observing where your attention is currently
going, and (2) actively trying to focus your attention on something in
particular.
Mindfulness
practice has the potential to instill significant and profound change in our
lives. However, the extent to which this potential is realized is dependent on
how much of it we do. All the evidence suggests that significant change
requires consistent practice over a period of time – months or years. It works initially by making us more aware of
where our attention is going and by increasing our control over where it does
go. Over a longer period of time, this
enhanced awareness and increased control can have very powerful and profound
knock-on effects on our understanding and perception – of the world around us,
the people in it, and also of ourselves and our relationships to the world and
the people in it. Needless to say, over a period of time, mindfulness can also
have a profound effect on our speech, although as hopefully it will become
clear, the relationship between mindfulness and stuttering is not a
straightforward linear one. Anyway, I want to start by dispelling a few common
misconceptions about what mindfulness is...
Mindfulness
is mindfulness, and we can be mindful of any state that we find ourselves in.
So, just as we can be mindful of being relaxed, we can also be mindful of being
angry, stressed or anxious. To be mindful of something means to pay attention
to that something and to be aware of the fact that you are paying attention to
it. A key aim of mindfulness practice is to train our attention so that we can
be fully awake and alert to the present moment and fully open to the variety of
potential experiences that exist within that moment – whatever they may be.
Many people
mistakenly equate mindfulness with stopping the flow of thoughts through their
minds. However, although the flow of thoughts may sometimes (temporarily) seem
to grind to a halt during some mindfulness practices, stopping one’s flow of
thoughts is not necessary in order to be mindful, and thoughts are not an
obstacle to mindfulness. Thoughts come and go in our minds just like sounds
come and go in the environment around us. There is no need to try and change
this. Nevertheless, mindfulness practice can help you to develop more control
over how much attention you pay to the thoughts that arise in your mind, and
this can be useful.
In fact, a
key outcome of mindfulness practice is an increased awareness of the ultimate
arbitrariness of values and value judgments.
So, if anything, mindfulness is likely to make us less dogmatic in our
beliefs and more accepting of the variety of different moral and ethical values
that people adhere to.
Mindfulness
practice can help us to identify exactly what we do when we stutter. As Van
Riper noted in the following quotes from his textbook “The treatment of
stuttering” this ability to accurately identify what we do when we stutter is
essential if we are to gain more control over it...
·
One
of the curious features in the stutterer’s perception of his stuttering is his
tendency to lump together a host of disparate behaviors ranging all the way
from nose wrinkling to saying “ah-ah-ah” and to call that lump “stuttering”.
·
To
ask a stutterer to begin immediately to change the way he stutters is to ask
for failure, if only because he rarely knows how he stutters.
·
We
begin our therapy by training the stutterer to identify the overt and
covert behaviors that constitute his disorder.
Van Riper 1973, pp245-246
The problem
that Van Riper was describing here stems from the tendency for human beings to
focus on the verbal descriptions of what they are doing rather than on what they
are actually doing. Although convenient, and often useful, the words we use to
describe things have an unforeseen consequence of diverting our attention
towards themselves and away from the events, activities, or objects they are
describing. So a key function of mindfulness practice is to train us to look
beyond the words and observe directly the sensory experiences that underlie
them.
Van Riper
considered this identification of what we actually do when we stutter to be the
essential starting point of all therapy for stuttering, and people attending
his courses were first assigned a series of tasks (including, for example,
watching themselves in front of a mirror) to make them more aware of what they
really do do when they are stuttering. The “identification” stage of Van
Riper’s stuttering therapy constitutes a very good example of mindfulness based
cognitive therapy – although he himself never actually called it that. Later in this article I will outline some
applications of mindfulness practice that we can employ while speaking in order
to increase our awareness of what exactly we are doing when we stutter.
In addition
to helping us to identify what we do
when we stutter, mindfulness practice can also help us to increase our
awareness of how our listeners respond to us when we speak and when we stutter.
Arguably the practice of mindfully observing our listeners’ responses is as important
as mindfully observing ourselves. This is because, just as “stutterers rarely
know how they stutter”, they also rarely know how their listeners are really responding
to them. Indeed probably the reality is that in many speaking situations, especially
more challenging ones, we probably accurately perceive very little of how
listeners are responding to us. Instead, at such times, our attention is likely
to be distracted by memories of how listeners have responded to us in similar
situations in the past. These past memories may not all be bad ones, but
whatever the case, they are second-hand, and they draw our attention away from the
reality of the present encounter. This lack of an accurate awareness of our
listeners’ responses diminishes our ability to determine the most effective and
appropriate way of relating to them. It is thus likely to reduce the effectiveness
of our communication and increase the likelihood that listeners will fail to
grasp what we are trying to say. This process can form into a sort of vicious
circle whereby, past experiences of communication failure cause us to make
inappropriate (and often unnecessary) adjustments to our speech, which have the
net effect of increasing the chances of communication failure in the future.
An important side-effect of focusing attention
on raw sensory experiences, rather than on thoughts, is that it brings about a
reduction in the tendency to make value judgments. So, for example, we are less
likely to think of things in terms of good or bad, right or wrong, etc. This reduction occurs because such judgments
are largely tied up with the language we use, whereas sensory and emotional
experiences are value-free. The more strongly we focus on direct sensory
experiences and feelings, the less space there is for such value judgments.
This is a particularly important issue for people who stutter because
stuttering is intricately bound up with the judgments we make about the quality
of our speech. We tend to stutter most when we anticipate or perceive that our
speech is in some way “not good enough” and we feel like we have to do better.
It is
important to understand this relationship between language, value judgments,
and stuttering, because, if we do, it quickly becomes apparent that there is a
lot we can do to help ourselves. To my mind, much of the advice given out by
therapists in this regard is unhelpful. In particular, I am aware that many
therapists advocate focusing on positive thoughts (about one’s performance)
instead of negative ones, and praising oneself for one’s “successes”. Although
superficially this might seem a reasonable thing to do, it directly contradicts
the mindfulness practice that I learned during my Zen training. The problem is
that positive and negative judgments constitute two sides of the same coin. If
you label one aspect of something as positive, by implication you are implying
the non-labeled aspects are negative (or at least you are implying that they
are less positive). So, if you praise yourself for the times you manage to say
something well, you are still falling into the trap of categorizing your
utterances into boxes of good and bad. So, while being mindful of your speech
and of people’s reactions to it, avoid verbal labels altogether. Just observe –
be a passive observer, and resist the temptation to categorize what you
perceive. Passive observation of the raw experiences is enough. Having said that, be patient with yourself.
In all of us, the tendency to categorize and ascribe values to our experiences
is so deep rooted that it doesn’t disappear overnight. So, if you find yourself
still making value judgments, don’t beat yourself up about it. Just let it
serve as a reminder to focus more strongly on the raw experiences. Remember, the more you focus on the raw experiences,
the less space there is for your mind to make such judgments.
Secondary
symptoms of stuttering are behaviors we pick up after stuttering has become
established. These behaviors generally become entrenched because they sometimes
help us to get our words out and to avoid unpleasant experiences of struggling
with our speech. They may also help us avoid unpleasant responses from
listeners. Consequently they become reinforced and we find ourselves using them
over and over again, with an increasing degree of automaticity. Sometimes they
become so firmly entrenched that they appear to be completely automatic.
However, despite appearances, we do have the capacity to bring them back under
voluntary control, provided we are sufficiently aware of the fact that we are
engaging in them. The problem with secondary symptoms is that, although they
appear to help us when we first start using them, overall, they add to the
problem, and make our speech more effortful and more difficult for other people
to understand. These secondary symptoms can be divided into two types:
“avoidance behaviors” such as stalling before an anticipated block or
substituting words, and “escape behaviors” such as using force to push through
a block. There are an infinite number of ways these secondary symptoms can
manifest. (I will post an article focusing on secondary symptoms in the near
future).
Mindfulness
is helpful in reducing these symptoms in a number of ways. First of all, the
mindfulness practice of passively observing our speaking/stuttering makes us
more consciously aware of the secondary symptoms that we are engaging in. This
was quite an eye-opener for myself, because, prior to practicing mindfulness, I
thought I was already quite well aware of what I was doing. However, as I
stopped engaging in the more obvious secondary symptoms, like scrunching up my
face, clenching my fists and jerking my head, I gradually became aware of many
subtle secondary symptoms that I had never even noticed before. Many of these
involved subtle stalling or delaying tactics before anticipated blocks, and
abnormal prosody (i.e., abnormal emphasis, pitch and intonation). Many of these
unhelpful symptoms start to diminish spontaneously, as soon as you start to
become aware that you are doing them. However, it may not feel like they are
diminishing at the time because you are more aware of them than you used to be.
Active intervention to prevent yourself doing some of these things may
ultimately prove to be necessary, but there is no need to make it a strategy of
first resort.
Mindfulness
also reduces secondary symptoms that constitute forms of avoidance because the
very act of being mindful of something reduces one’s avoidance of it. Indeed,
in many ways, mindfulness implies non-avoidance.
This is a
much misunderstood function of mindfulness. The more closely we observe our
lives and the way we respond to situations and other people, the more we become
aware that our responses are largely beyond our control. The paradox here is
that the more we become aware of (and accepting of) our ultimate lack of
control over our thoughts and actions, the more they seem to spontaneously fall
into line with what we would like them to be. There are several possible
reasons for this. For example, it may be that as we become more mindful our
ideals change and become more realistic, or it may be that our responses change
and become more adaptive, or perhaps a bit of both. But whatever the case, the
feeling is that such changes are happening spontaneously as mindfulness
increases, and it is not really “me” that is instigating those changes.
Along with these
changes comes an increasing awareness that, in fact, none of us have complete
control over what we do. So, in this regard, we are all subject to a similar predicament.
As this awareness grows, it brings with it an increasing sense of empathy towards
the people we encounter in our everyday lives. This feeling of empathy that
arises out of mindfulness helps us to communicate because, with it, we no
longer feel that we have to rely so strongly on the actual words we speak. Instead
we develop faith that, even if the words don’t come out quite as planned, the
message will still get across. As this sense of faith increases, the fear of
blocking and stuttering reduces.
Essentially,
there are two types of practice: (1) formal meditation; and (2) mindfulness
whilst performing the actions of everyday life. These two practices support
each other and, in my experience, both are equally important. I discuss the
important points of both of these approaches below.
This
involves setting aside some time, preferably on a daily basis, to practice
focusing your attention on something. The practice is extremely
straightforward. Essentially it involves: (a) deciding to focus your attention
on something (for example on your breathing); (b) continuing to try to maintain
your focus of attention on it; and (c) pulling your attention back to it as
soon as you notice it has wandered. Inevitably it involves the process of
pulling your attention back, again and again, to whatever it is that you have
decided to focus on. It doesn’t matter how often your attention wanders off.
All that matters is that as soon as you notice that it has wandered, you pull
it back. Remember, it is in the nature of the mind to wander, so don’t be
disappointed when it does. Each instance of wandering is an opportunity to pull
it back, and each time you pull it back, you are making progress.
Personally,
I think the posture you adopt when doing this formal meditation is important. Although
I am aware that practitioners disagree somewhat on quite how important it is. Some
postures – like maintaining a straight back - encourage us to pay attention and
to stay awake. Also, some postures are easier on your circulation and so it is
easier to remain feeling comfortable while you are staying still. Lying down is
not generally conducive to being alert and paying attention. And, although meditation
while lying down is not impossible, to my mind, it makes sense to adopt a
posture that makes it easier to focus and not drift off.
Secondly, I
find it is helpful to decide in advance exactly how long you are going to sit
for and have a clock or timer with you to make sure that you stick to your
original plan. If you don’t decide these things in advance, you are likely to
spend much of the time thinking about whether or not to stop and do something
else.
Thirdly,
don’t move! Or, at least, only move if you absolutely have to. Stay as still as
you possibly can. If we allow ourselves to move, we are more likely to find
ourselves fidgeting in order to avoid some of the many forms of discomfort that
inevitably come and go during meditation.
Fourthly,
and finally, I would suggest that if at all possible, do it together with (at
least) one other person. If there is a mindfulness/meditation group you can
join, that is great – as long as they really are doing it. But do bear in mind
that many mindfulness groups are a bit wishy-washy. I’ve been to quite a few
groups that do a few minutes of token-gesture mindfulness practice and then
spend a much longer time (mindlessly) chatting and drinking tea. Alternatively,
start a group yourself, and/or take turns hosting it with other people. In my
experience, success in finding other people willing to do it with you is often
a deciding factor in whether or not you succeed in maintaining a stable
powerful practice. You can do it alone, but it is much harder.
Basically,
this involves making a conscious decision to focus your attention on the
task(s) you are doing, and pulling your attention back to that task as soon as
you realize that it has wandered. It is easiest to practice when you are only
doing one thing at a time, and so traditionally, mindfulness teachers have
encouraged their students to be “single pointed” as far as possible. Hence Linji’s famous saying…
When walking, just walk
When sitting, just sit
Above all, don't wobble!
(Linji was a 9th Century Chinese
Zen monk)…
The more
busy our lives are, the fewer opportunities we have to be single-pointed in
this way. So, if your life is overfull with activities (and most of our lives
probably are), ask yourself whether there are any activities you can let go of.
Most people spend a lot of time watching television. So, one easy answer may be
to get rid of the TV. Indeed, having too many things to do is also a significant
hindrance when it comes to formal sitting meditation. If your life is over-full
with activities, you will find it extremely hard to settle into doing it.
Some
everyday activities lend themselves very well to mindfulness. For example, there
is mindful eating. Not only does it radically increase your awareness of the
food, it also makes you feel satisfied more quickly, so it’s very good for your
health. A lot of sports naturally pull you towards mindfulness because they
require high levels of attention in order to perform them well. So it’s not
surprising that mindfulness is explicitly emphasized and taught within many of
the martial arts. Acting and dancing also spontaneously encourage mindfulness. If
you drive a lot, I also found mindful driving to be an excellent practice, and
one that is surprisingly easy to instill. Maintaining a state of mindfulness
while performing some other activities can be more of a challenge, and of
these, mindful conversation is definitely one of the most challenging, albeit,
for ourselves, potentially also one of the most rewarding.
I first
started thinking about the possibilities of mindful speaking when I joined a
Zen meditation group. In the group, the main practice was silent sitting
meditation. However, they also spent 15 minutes chanting each day – in ancient
Japanese. I was not too keen on this in the beginning, but I soon realized that
it was an excellent opportunity to simply observe the feelings that emanate
from my body and mouth while I am speaking. I also noticed that much of the
tension that I normally carried around with me in my vocal tract and lungs
seemed to dissipate during the chanting. The chant was continuous, without any
breaks or pauses to breathe. So each participant simply took a breath when they
needed to and then fitted back in with the chorus. This meant that, every so
often, one had to miss out one or two of the words, in order to breathe. If you
made a mistake and chanted a word wrongly, you just had to keep going
regardless. Nobody would wait for you. Invariably, over the course of the 15 minutes,
I found that my voice resonated more and more strongly and I found the whole
experience very therapeutic.
This
experience of chanting has spurred me on more recently to experiment with “mindful
talking” as a sort of formal meditation practice together with one or two of my
friends. We sit in a circle, facing inwards (or if there are only two of us we
face each other directly) with our eyes open, but softly focused (so not
staring too hard at each other). After spending the first few minutes silently
paying attention to our breathing, we then take alternate turns to speak and to
listen to the other person speaking. We might begin with just counting numbers,
for example one person would count from one to five, rhythmically, and then the
next person, sticking to the same rhythm, would count from six to ten and so
on. Then we would go on to practice mindful conversation. For each of these
tasks we have experimented with various practices. The first involved simply
focusing on becoming aware of where our attention went during the task – “What am I paying attention to?” Then, other
practices have involved actively focusing our attention on different aspects of
speaking and listening, including for example, the sound of the words, the
feelings in our bodies and especially in our articulators, the emotional
feelings that accompanied our speech, the movements of our conversation
partners’ lips while speaking, their responses while speaking, and so on.
Always, the emphasis is on just paying attention to the experiences. I have
found that if I am paying attention well enough, there is no space for value
judgments to creep in. But if I do find myself making value judgments, and
thinking thoughts like “that sounded a bit too tense”, or “that didn’t sound
good enough” I remind myself that the exercise is to passively observe... not
to judge. Importantly, it is absolutely fine if we find ourselves blocking
during mindful speaking. Indeed, such mindful speaking exercises provide a unique
opportunity to observe our blocks. They also provide a unique opportunity to
experiment with different styles of speaking and to experiment with different
ways of responding to blocks. Mindful speaking exercises potentially also
provide the excellent opportunities to learn to master a technique and, in
particular, they appear to be a good way to learn to master The Jump.
The
experience of mindful speaking in a formal meditation setting also provides an
excellent foundation for mindful speaking in the situations that arise in our
everyday lives. In my experience, there is a lot of carry-over, so the more
experience you can amass at the one, the easier you will find the other.
My interest
in meditation started when I was twenty years old. At the time I was going
through something of a dark night of the soul. Ever since leaving school, my
stuttering had been extremely severe. I had spent two painful years struggling
to cope at university, and then finally gave up and took a job in a factory. My
stutter at the time was overt, characterized by long blocks and quite extreme
secondary symptoms. I had had speech therapy throughout my childhood,
adolescence and at university, but none of it had made any lasting difference.
The stutter prevented me from holding conversations, and even simple requests
and statements were very difficult. It tended to fluctuate, and was somewhat
less severe with people I knew well. Since dropping out of university, the
overt symptoms had also improved somewhat. But even so, it was still very difficult
to hold a conversation. Speaking was never enjoyable and listeners found it
difficult to understand what I was trying to say. I felt trapped and socially
isolated, and found it hard to envisage how my situation could possibly improve
without a substantial improvement in my ability to speak.
Knowing
that I was going through a particularly difficult patch, one of my former
school friends recommended a book to me... “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance”.
This book was quite different to any that I had ever read, and it immediately stimulated
an interest in me to find out more about Zen. So, over the following few months,
I read several more books on the topic. A common theme that ran through all of
these books was that, with respect to meditation, the ability to be silent and
to refrain from talking was a great advantage. It occurred to me that
meditation was something that I might be able to do particularly well! One book that I found particularly inspiring
was “The Three Pillars of Zen”. The author, Philip Kapleau, was an American reporter
who had spent several years living in a Zen monastery in Japan, meditating and
also transcribing conversations between the abbot and students who attended
courses there. I was so impressed by how the book had been written that I
decided to try and search this man out. My search eventually took me to
Rochester, New York where, as it turned out, Kapleau had founded a Zen center
of his own. When I arrived there, he was away on tour somewhere, so I never
actually met him. Nevertheless, I was introduced to the monk who was in charge
in his absence, and he arranged for me to stay nearby. I was invited to attend
the daily morning and evening meditation sessions.
Each meditation
session lasted for 2 hours in total, divided up into three 35-minute sessions
of mindful sitting, interspersed with two five-minute sessions of mindful
walking. During the final sitting session we also did some chanting and, sometimes,
one of the monks gave a talk while we sat in meditation.
During the
two week stay that I had in Rochester, I attended all the daily morning and
evening sessions. I spent much of the rest of the time walking and reading, as
there was limited opportunity to talk to people. Although my stutter was not my
primary motive for wanting to practice mindfulness, I nevertheless expected to
see some improvements in it as a side-effect of all the practice I was doing.
So, at the end of that two week period I was a little disappointed to find that
it had not got any less severe. In fact, its severity appeared to have
increased somewhat since starting meditation. I discussed this during one of
the regular meetings with the monk who had been assigned to look after me. He
told me that, in his experience, it’s very common for things to appear to get
worse before they get better, and that this is often associated with changing
perceptions. So perhaps before I started, I may not have been fully aware of
how severe my stuttering really was. The explanation sounded reasonable.
At the end
of the two week period, I had to return to Europe because my USA visa was
expiring. An opportunity arose to then go and live near the Hamburg Zen Center,
which was affiliated to the center in Rochester. So I continued practicing in
Hamburg and, for the following 12 months, probably averaged around 2 hours formal
practice a day. I was less enthusiastic about practicing mindfulness while
performing everyday tasks. It just didn’t appeal to me. So, when I was not
sitting doing formal meditation, I tended not to make effort to be mindful. Nevertheless,
during that 12 month period my stuttering did finally become less severe, the
main change being that the secondary symptoms were very much diminished and I
felt like I had much better control over them. But I still blocked a lot, and I
still experienced significant difficulty speaking to people – both in English
and in German.
Then, about
a year after arriving in Hamburg, I was offered a new job, as a delivery
driver. This involved making deliveries to various companies around northern
Germany. As I would be alone in the cabin of the lorry most of the time, I
decided that this would be an opportunity to finally get to grips with practicing
mindfulness while performing actions, and I decided to start by experimenting
with being mindful while driving.
I found
that I was able to adjust the seat of the lorry so that I could sit comfortably
with a straight back. Then, from the moment I started driving, I made effort to
focus my attention entirely on the tasks of driving. Every time I found my
attention wandering, I would pull it back to the road ahead and the task at
hand.
Each of the
deliveries I made required me to speak to people, although usually just for a
few minutes. As it turned out, these short periods of talking also provided an
ideal opportunity to practice mindfulness in action. Before each encounter, I
reminded myself to remain mindful while speaking. Then, while speaking, I
focused intensely on the sensory experiences that accompanied my speech and on
the responses of the people I was speaking to. I also maintained a firm rule
that, if I found myself blocking, I would not resort to the use of force
to push the words out. I would simply gently try again, and keep trying until I
could say what I needed to say gently, without force. Or alternatively, if
there was no time, I would write it down instead. As it turned out, it was
particularly easy to remain mindful during these periods. In part, I think this
was because the subject matter of the conversations was relatively limited,
repetitive, and not very cognitively demanding, and it definitely helped that the
conversations were interspersed with relatively long periods of driving
meditation.
Within a
few weeks of starting this job, not only had the secondary symptoms apparently completely
disappeared, but so had the blocks! It occurred to me that the big breakthrough
happened because I had finally extended my mindfulness practice to mindfulness
while performing actions, and in particular I felt that the frequent periods of
short but highly disciplined mindful talking had played an important role in
this change. Whatever the case, for the first time in my life, I found myself
able to speak without blocking at all – not only at work, but at home too, and
also when I went out socially, in the evenings. After maintaining this
remission for a few months, I started to believe the stutter had finally
disappeared.
Overall,
the remission lasted about nine months. During this time my life changed beyond
recognition. For the first time ever, I found myself able to really enjoy
social interaction. And, at last, I got a girlfriend.
After a few
months living together, we left Germany and went to live in Greece. I was keen
to learn the language. So, once we had settled in, we developed a routine
whereby we learnt some phrases from cassette recordings that came with a Greek
language course we had bought before leaving Germany. After practicing the phrases on each other
home, we would go down to the village to try them out in real-life situations. Although
I paid a lot of attention to pronouncing the words correctly, I was aware that
I made a lot of mistakes when I tried to use them in real life – substantially
more than my girlfriend, despite her appearing to make much less effort than
myself. Often my words came out wrongly and the shopkeepers didn’t understand
me.
As I tried
harder to avoid making mistakes in order to make myself understood, I started
to notice what seemed like a few minor blocks starting to occur. Although these
blocks were only of short duration, the experience significantly jolted my
confidence. Up to that point, I had really believed I was “cured”, so the
appearance of these blocks demonstrated to me that this was not the case. First
of all they only happened when trying to speak in Greek and failing to make
myself understood. However, within a few weeks, I noticed the occasional blocks
starting to reappear when speaking with people in English and German. Although they
would have been hardly perceptible to anyone else, the experience frightened me
because it made me consider, for the first time, the possibility that I might
relapse fully. My girlfriend had no idea about how severely I had stuttered in
the past, and I was afraid that if I started to stutter like that again, she
would leave me.
My first
reaction to the realization that I was relapsing was to presume that I had let
my practice slip and that I wasn’t being mindful enough. Consequently, I
thought that, if I could make more effort and be more mindful, I would once
again overcome the fear of blocking. However, after several years of intense
mindfulness practice, I could not escape the fact that the fear had not
diminished at all and that despite meditating regularly, and trying to remain
mindful while speaking, the blocks continued to occur. Furthermore, although
they were mainly of short duration, occasionally they would be longer and would
significantly interfere with my ability to communicate. I always managed to
maintain control over how I responded to them and never resorted to the use of
force. Instead I simply went back and tried the word I was blocking on again,
and again, until I could say it without blocking. Although this strategy
ensured that the secondary symptoms never returned, it meant that sometimes it
took a long time to get the words out and communication was no longer the easy and
enjoyable experience that it had been during those months of remission.
So no
matter how much I practiced and experimented with different forms of meditation,
I still continued to block. Although I rarely produced any visible secondary
symptoms and I never relapsed back to how I had been before moving to Hamburg, I
nevertheless remained fearful of blocking whenever I spoke, and fearful that I
may relapse further.
It was not
until I was 40 years old that this fear of blocks finally relented. This happened
quite suddenly, and coincided with my adopting a new approach to dealing with
them: Instead of repeatedly going back and trying to say the problem-sound
without blocking, I simply gave up and, instead, continued on to the next sound
and on with the rest of what I wanted to say. Although this technique did not
stop the blocks from occurring, it immediately proved to be a reliable way of
quickly getting past them, such that they no longer constituted an obstacle to
communication.
The
breakthrough started with the slow realization that my previous strategy (of
going back and starting a sound again whenever I found myself blocking on it) was
not only not helping, but was in fact actively preventing me from getting
messages across. I think part of the reason it took so long for the coin to
drop that it was not helping, was because the overwhelming message that I had
received – from my parents, teachers and from speech therapists – had always
been to stop, go back and gently try again. In contrast, this new approach,
which effectively involved giving up on the sounds I couldn’t say, felt like
admitting defeat, and went against what I had been taught. Nevertheless, when I
finally started to experiment with jumping over the sounds I was blocking on
instead of going back, it worked.
My original
reasons for being attracted to mindfulness were not so much to overcome stuttering,
but rather to improve my quality of life and to give me a deeper sense of
meaning and connectedness. Before I started reading those books on Zen, I was
convinced that I would only be able to achieve such goals, if I could first of
all overcome my stutter. The books changed all that, insofar as they presented me
with the possibility that it was not necessary to overcome the stutter first in
order to achieve those goals. I then started to think the opposite – that, all
I had to do was to achieve that sense of connectedness, through mindfulness,
and then the stutter would spontaneously remit.
Looking
back over the thirty or so years that I’ve now been practicing mindfulness, I
am aware that both of those beliefs were essentially misguided, although the
second was probably somewhat more helpful than the first. Certainly stuttering
and mindfulness may interact with one another, but they are not polar
opposites. It is possible to stutter while being mindful, and it is equally
possible to be fluent while being mindless. In a similar way, much of the change
that mindfulness has brought about has entailed a process of deconstruction. The
practice of focusing attention and grounding it in the present moment has forced
me to review my beliefs, has revealed many of them to be untenable, and caused many
of them to fall apart. This has not necessarily been an easy process, not least
because what I have been left with has sometimes been very different to what I
expected. Nor has it always brought me into line with the views of people
around me or the received wisdom of wider society. Indeed, in the short term,
this process of deconstruction has sometimes resulted in quite profound
feelings of disillusionment. This is quite different to the overwhelmingly
blissful experiences I had originally expected that meditation would bring.
Over time, however,
I have learned to welcome disillusionment as a valuable indicator that change
is taking place and that progress is being made. Insofar as the concept of
enlightenment implies an absence of illusions, dis-illusionment is a necessary
prerequisite. And, in this regard, it was comforting to recognize that Buddha’s
own life-story also reflects exactly this same process.
In my case,
the process of deconstruction has been (and continues to be) a slow one, and it
has not happened in a linear fashion. My initial expectation that my false
beliefs would fall away and I then would see things as they really are, as it
turned out, was itself a false belief. A more accurate depiction of the process
is that, as one false belief fell away, it tended to be quickly replaced by
another belief – which subsequently also turned out also to be false, and so on.
Often, in the beginning, I felt like I was just going round in circles. However,
as I have observed this process over a period of time, I’ve noticed that the
way I perceive my beliefs has itself changed. Gradually, it has become less a
matter of “Are they true or false?”, and more a matter of “Are they useful?” Developing
the ability to perceive them in this purely pragmatic way has been a great help.
So yes, all in all, my experiences of mindfulness have been quite different to what I expected when I first began practicing. Consequently, I find myself wanting to stress the possibility that other people’s experiences may also be substantially different to what they may expect. It’s not all bliss and happiness! And it might not stop you stuttering, although it probably will help. Whatever the case, it’s worth it anyway – as long as you stick with it long enough.
Mindfulness and Stuttering by P. H. Brocklehurst is licensed under a Creative Commons
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