#practical hypnosis

Shift the focus.

A note before reading: some of these thoughts touch the less-discussed side of hypnosis. Anchor yourself if needed, and proceed at your own pace.

✦ ᛉ ᚨ ᚷ ᛟ ✦

Continuing with the moments when it’s a bad idea — here is the second problem.

If this is starting to feel like a checklist of hard truths, then yes: we’re still in the realm of physical reality. And it turns out, once you start looking, the list isn't short.

So let’s keep going.

Earlier I talked about the body in space — chairs, pain, fatigue. But I left out the most fundamental rhythm of all:

breathing.

For many, breath is the anchor of trance. "Take a deep breath." "Exhale and let go." "Follow the rhythm of your breathing."

It’s a powerful tool. Until it isn’t.

For someone with asthma, COPD, or long-term respiratory damage, breathing isn't a gateway to peace. It’s labor. It’s a tightness in the chest. It’s the memory of hospitals, nebulizers, and the sheer effort of a basic inhale.

When the body's most automatic rhythm becomes a struggle, the gentlest instruction — "just breathe" — can feel like a cliff they cannot climb. It doesn't soothe; it highlights a lack of control.

So what do we do then? We remember: we are not defined by our breath.

We shift the focus. We turn attention to the weight of the hands. To the sensation of texture against the skin. To the distant hum of a appliance, or the play of light behind closed eyelids. We build the trance on what is accessible, not on what is idealized.

The path inward doesn't have a single door. Sometimes, you have to let go of the obvious key and feel for the latch that actually gives way.

how do we build the trance

A note before reading: some of these thoughts touch the less-discussed side of hypnosis. Anchor yourself if needed, and proceed at your own pace.

✦ ᛉ ᚨ ᚷ ᛟ ✦

One of the pioneers, Dr. Milton Erickson, understood this intimately. He lived with severe physical limitations. His legendary texts exist because people listened — scribes who understood that a mind that couldn't move a pen still held galaxies of insight.

So the legacy we inherit isn't one of perfect conditions, but of radical adaptation.

The question, then, is no longer if physical limitations exist. The question is: how do we build the trance around them?

For subjects: I know the ideal space isn't always possible. Perfection isn't the goal; safety and basic comfort are. A sturdy chair, a supportive bed, a couch that holds you — these aren't luxuries. They are the foundation. If you're online, at home, claim your space. Your bed is a valid sanctuary. Your comfort is non-negotiable.

For hypnotists: Your first suggestion should always be agency. "Adjust anytime." "Shift until you're comfortable." "Your comfort guides us." Allowing movement isn't a concession — it's the first step of the induction. You are not building a trance on someone; you are weaving it with them, around the architecture of their body.

So if the connection falters, if the depth feels out of reach, pause the script. The question isn't: "What did I do wrong?"

For both subject and hypnotist, the real, necessary question is: "What does the body need to feel safe enough to let go?"

Is there a physical reality we need to acknowledge, to honor, to work with first?