or something else that would give him a particularly relaxed and approachable demeanor.
Bill Harvey didn't have any academic qualifications. He didn't need them. He had picked up his understanding of psychology from life and he knew his subject inside out and backwards as well. He'd become the world's leading authority in hypnotherapy simply by practicing it every day of the week for the last thirty years. He began messing around with hypnosis when he was fifteen, he was now forty-five. You do one thing solidly for thirty years, and by the end, you find you're pretty damn good. Harvey was not just damn good , he was brilliant .
Harvey was addressing a late evening group at I.O.H. headquarters, Springfield.
"Clients will come to you totally wrapped up in themselves , thinking all the time about their problems, behaviors and hang-ups. One of the things you can do, to stop this, is to give them even more to think about. Usually people can only cope with and process seven bits of information at a time.
"The formula is seven, plus or minus two . Give them things to do outside their normal realm of activity, and they'll have to spend time working on those and that will distract them from their own problems. The more they do for you, the less time they have to think about their own problems. You can give them all sorts of interesting little projects. Use your imagination. As the Chinese professor said 'Use your noodle.' A lot of ideas will come to your mind as you work with each client."
It was Wednesday morning and Bishman met Harvey at the Pa sadena office for his regular 9 am appointment. At hypnotherapy appointments Harvey would immediately take Bishman into an altered state and start work.
That didn't mean to say they never talked to each other on a conscious level. Quite the contrary - many times Harvey met Bishman for a meal (Harvey always picked up the tab) to talk things over and give feedback. But this was a set appointment, so down to hypnotic regression. Bishman searched his mental atlas of faraway places and began:
Many times when you're on the road things go wrong, or at least not according to plan. One time Bishman was in Texas and got caught up in a brutal road accident. The truck in which he was a passenger wasn't directly involved and only due to the swift reactions of the driver did they avoid getting entangled in the carnage.
The noise had been horrendous: smashing glass, the noise of steel grinding, twisting, buckling, skidding, scraping and banging along the ground in a shower of sparks. It seemed to go on forever but, in reality, it was all over in seconds.
The truckie pulled, or rather lurched up. The two of them jumped out to see if they could help anyone. Apparently some maniac, a drunk, had somehow got onto the freeway and was driving down it the wrong way, at excessively high speed. He plowed headlong into oncoming traffic. There was wreckage strewn everywhere.
Bishman was the first to find the body, a woman's. She'd been cleanly decapitated. Bishman wondered what could have caused such a clean cut. He didn't have to look for the head, it was right next to him. It was truly awesome, and he couldn't help staring at it. The eyes were fully open and looking around as if to say, what's happened, why can't I move? Her lips were moving but no noise was coming out of them. The eyes kept looking around and eventually their gaze fell on her own body which was about six feet away. Her eyes and lips then started going mental.
Just then, Bishman's buddy arrived, took in the scene, heaved up, then threw his coat over the victim's head. Bishman didn't like to say anything, but he was fascinated by the woman's reaction.
Harvey waited patiently. He had an intuition Bishman would mentally click back in; whether it would be a continuation or another track would be anyone's guess. Without warning, Bishman started again, Harvey was ready and willing:
Bishman got lost in Upstate New York or
Bill Harvey didn't have any academic qualifications. He didn't need them. He had picked up his understanding of psychology from life and he knew his subject inside out and backwards as well. He'd become the world's leading authority in hypnotherapy simply by practicing it every day of the week for the last thirty years. He began messing around with hypnosis when he was fifteen, he was now forty-five. You do one thing solidly for thirty years, and by the end, you find you're pretty damn good. Harvey was not just damn good , he was brilliant .
Harvey was addressing a late evening group at I.O.H. headquarters, Springfield.
"Clients will come to you totally wrapped up in themselves , thinking all the time about their problems, behaviors and hang-ups. One of the things you can do, to stop this, is to give them even more to think about. Usually people can only cope with and process seven bits of information at a time.
"The formula is seven, plus or minus two . Give them things to do outside their normal realm of activity, and they'll have to spend time working on those and that will distract them from their own problems. The more they do for you, the less time they have to think about their own problems. You can give them all sorts of interesting little projects. Use your imagination. As the Chinese professor said 'Use your noodle.' A lot of ideas will come to your mind as you work with each client."
It was Wednesday morning and Bishman met Harvey at the Pa sadena office for his regular 9 am appointment. At hypnotherapy appointments Harvey would immediately take Bishman into an altered state and start work.
That didn't mean to say they never talked to each other on a conscious level. Quite the contrary - many times Harvey met Bishman for a meal (Harvey always picked up the tab) to talk things over and give feedback. But this was a set appointment, so down to hypnotic regression. Bishman searched his mental atlas of faraway places and began:
Many times when you're on the road things go wrong, or at least not according to plan. One time Bishman was in Texas and got caught up in a brutal road accident. The truck in which he was a passenger wasn't directly involved and only due to the swift reactions of the driver did they avoid getting entangled in the carnage.
The noise had been horrendous: smashing glass, the noise of steel grinding, twisting, buckling, skidding, scraping and banging along the ground in a shower of sparks. It seemed to go on forever but, in reality, it was all over in seconds.
The truckie pulled, or rather lurched up. The two of them jumped out to see if they could help anyone. Apparently some maniac, a drunk, had somehow got onto the freeway and was driving down it the wrong way, at excessively high speed. He plowed headlong into oncoming traffic. There was wreckage strewn everywhere.
Bishman was the first to find the body, a woman's. She'd been cleanly decapitated. Bishman wondered what could have caused such a clean cut. He didn't have to look for the head, it was right next to him. It was truly awesome, and he couldn't help staring at it. The eyes were fully open and looking around as if to say, what's happened, why can't I move? Her lips were moving but no noise was coming out of them. The eyes kept looking around and eventually their gaze fell on her own body which was about six feet away. Her eyes and lips then started going mental.
Just then, Bishman's buddy arrived, took in the scene, heaved up, then threw his coat over the victim's head. Bishman didn't like to say anything, but he was fascinated by the woman's reaction.
Harvey waited patiently. He had an intuition Bishman would mentally click back in; whether it would be a continuation or another track would be anyone's guess. Without warning, Bishman started again, Harvey was ready and willing:
Bishman got lost in Upstate New York or
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