In the previous newsletter I included the cartoon above, and asked readers to identify the basic structure of the communication, “Are you happier than you ever thought you’d be,” (or “Are you better at spotting trick questions than you ever thought you’d be.”) and play with how you could use this pattern in a positive way with someone (instead of as a trick question). If you didn’t do this before, try thinking about this now, before reading further.

The pattern asks someone to compare their present experience with an earlier expectation, and to decide whether one is more intense than the other. The word “ever” adds an additional piece, asking the listener to think of the most extreme expectation they have had about the present. A number of studies have shown definitively that our expectations are often inaccurate, and this is true of both positive and negative ones. All of us tend to anticipate that a new relationship, job, or possession will give us more pleasure than it actually does, and we also tend to anticipate that a serious loss or illness will be more catastrophic than it is. For instance, people who become paralyzed are initially focused on their expectations and feel terrible; after some experience with the actuality of their situation, they often find that they can still have a worthwhile and interesting life despite their handicap.

However, some of us do this much more than others, and it can often be very useful to ask someone to compare their expectations with reality, so that they can use this as useful feedback in adjusting their expectations when making future choices. “Was that discussion with your boss as bad as you had ever feared?” “Did that new TV actually give you as much pleasure as you ever thought it would?” The latter is particularly useful with addictive behaviors, in which someone is often more addicted to their expectation of a rewarding stimulus than they are to the stimulus itself. As Winnie the Pooh said, “ ‘Well,’ said Pooh, ‘what I like best,’ and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called.” –A.A. Milne

In a previous article, I wrote about moving a representation to a location outside the head, so that it wouldn’t be distracting. In response to that, I received the following from Don Aspromonte, a colleague in Dallas, TX, who works with businesses internationally to improve sales and customer satisfaction, and author of Green Light Selling, a book that is based firmly in NLP communication processes.

“I read your piece about moving a representation in the head in your last newsletter, and it reminded me of a method I have used for many years. The first time I used this pattern for dealing with a migraine headache was in the early 1980’s with my sister. Based on what we were experimenting with in those days in NLP-land, I coached her over the phone to move her headache to another area of her head. This was not immediately successful for two reasons: random movement is less likely to work than moving it from/to a specific location, and ecology needs to be observed. We figured this out fairly quickly when I mentioned that we were not going to get rid of the symptom, we were just asking it to move to a different place. . . . Since migraine headaches almost always start in only one hemisphere, we began by moving it to the other side of the head. Once that is done, it can be moved up to a location a few inches above the head. When I asked her if she still had a headache she said, ‘Yes, but I can’t feel it.’ After a while she forgot that she had it. She is still successful in using this method and the frequency of headaches has dropped to nearly zero over the years. . . . I have used this exact pattern with many clients over the years and consistently received the same report, ‘Yes, I still have the headache, but I can’t feel it.’ I suspect there are many possible variations on this theme for others to explore.”

This is a nice example of the limitation of metaphor, and it occurs on two different logical levels. First Ratbert worries about his wisdom being derived from bad analogies (a form of metaphor). Then Dogbert responds to this worry with an analogy that implicitly compares his wisdom to wine, and then punctures it with his last observation.

Metaphor can be very useful, but it always has this inherent limitation–Is the analogy really appropriate, or is it misleading–or perhaps both? One of my favorite sayings points this out well: “The early bird gets the worm. . . . But the second mouse gets the cheese.”

About a month ago, I had something on my mind that I had already arranged to take care of later, but it kept drawing my attention, distracting me, and I wanted to concentrate fully on something else that I needed to do. First I noticed where this distracting image and auditory was— right in the center of my head. When I tried moving it out to the left side about six inches, that made it less intrusive but it was still distracting. Moving it out to the right side, and then behind my head was about the same—better than inside, but still bothersome. Moving it to in front of my forehead made it even MORE the center of my attention and distracting, and I immediately realized that’s where I put images of immediate goals and outcomes that I want to concentrate on. Then I moved it to above my head, and breathed a big sigh of relief. Up there it didn’t distract me, and I was able to concentrate well and get the job done.

For years I have been asking people who are bothered by a critical voice to notice where it is located (almost always inside or very near their head), and then suggesting that they hear the exact same voice coming from their left elbow or right kneecap. When they do that, the tonality of the voice often spontaneously changes, and it doesn’t have the same strong emotional impact, making it easier to listen to it without bad feelings. That can open the door to communicating with the voice, and working with it further in a variety of ways in order to integrate it and make good use of it, ultimately transforming it into a resourceful ally instead of a nag. Connirae once had an overweight client whose critical voice spoke from her stomach. (Try listening to a critical voice, and then move it so that you hear it coming from your stomach, and notice how THAT changes your feelings.) Hearing the voice coming from her stomach made her uncomfortable, so she ate frequently in order to make her stomach feel better. Moving that voice out of her stomach allowed her to feel better, so she ate less. Changing the location of a representation in this way is often a very powerful and useful change, and this is something that you can apply to a wide variety of problems. The next time you are distracted by a voice or an image, notice the representation, and then try moving it to some other location in your personal space until you find one that serves you well.

Jesse Kessinger, who works in a mental health clinic for an alternative school in the public school system in Baltimore, MD wrote me recently: “I was reading your book Six Bind Elephants again last night, and today I had a mandated client come in, a young adolescent on probation who got into two fights. In one he broke a boy’s nose. I found that the thing that angers him the worst is when people badmouth his mother or his girlfriend. In the moments when others insult his mother or girlfriend he was focusing on how they disrespected them, and that he had to protect them. I asked him if he noticed how much he was disrespecting his mother and his girlfriend by jeopardizing their ability to see him when he was locked up, and jeopardizing his own future (they love him). When I applied his criteria to himself, he sat there for a while and said, ‘Oh my God, I have hurt them,’ and it was as if smoke was coming out of his ears. He continued to process for a good 10 minutes, making various comments along the lines of, ‘This flips everything,’ as he continued to expand the scope of his disrespect to himself. He later said, ‘It was so stupid what I did—like a little kid.’ He then went on to mention that there were many other fights, all related to protecting his mom/girlfriend.

There is still work to do with this young man, but boy was that powerful for him, and I wanted to thank you for your teaching and your book; this boy is surely benefiting from it. It was quite amazing to watch a simple, yet well-targeted reframe, using your scope and category material, have such a profound effect.”

FOLLOW-UP A WEEK LATER:

“The young man I told you about has had multiple times when people have tried to fight him (in the past he would have fought). He has ignored these people’s attempts at baiting him. In describing the incidents he repeatedly used criteria with long time frames. This is all from just the reframe–no other work other than encouraging him and complimenting him on making good choices. I made no other interventions because I wanted to see how far this one would go first. This kid now sees his old behavior as being childish and views folks who want to fight as silly. Wow. I wish they all worked like this. I’d help alot of delinquents retire from delinquency!”