About three years ago I decided to go for my PhD in somatic depth psychology. I’d spent the last two years establishing a healthy massage therapy practice in LA, and although I found the bodywork meaningful, I wanted to go deeper. Some folks scratch their heads upon learning that I’ve no intention of becoming a licensed psychologist. But the whole premise of somatics – mind-body psychology – is that mind and body are intricately interwoven. They affect each other, and express each other, in myriad ways; a degree in somatics is as much about healing the body as healing the mind. Though it might strike some as wacky, this is a premise with firm scientific support. Every muscle, organ, and system of the body is in dialogue with the brain, and psychological factors of emotional and social well-being (and even belief itself!) have been shown to carry significant impact on health outcomes.
It is unfortunately part of the legacy of Western civilization to enshrine the abstract rational mind and denigrate the body as though it were only a machine or a slave. No wonder our bodies complain with aches and pains, and worse! Bodies are in reality vital, sensitive, living things. What’s more, it is through our bodies that we know the world directly, rather than abstractly, and know ourselves, in the moment, as we actually are – through movement, gut reactions, emotions (deeply rooted in the body!), touch, and all the sensual pleasures of being alive.
Our embodiment, and our need for nurturing contact, body-to-body, with others, is so deeply rooted in our being, that children who do not receive touch in early infancy are far more likely to develop severe physical and psychological problems. After three years of study, the vital connection between psyche and body is so clear and obvious to me that I no longer feel much need to defend it against naysayers. And while I’ve doubtless lost a few clients who find this perspective a bit threatening, I’ve found many others who are hungry for it.
Then, last October, I made the decision to complete my PhD fieldwork by researching human-elephant communication in Cambodia.
Mind-body psychology was a big enough leap, but elephants? What do elephants have to do with mind-body psychology? What do elephants have to do with massage?
Lets see if I can connect the dots…
Honoring the Body
The unconscious tendency toward denigration of the body in Western thought goes hand in hand with a deeply entrenched Judeo-Christian mythology of human “dominion over nature” (Genesis 1:26). We may not think about this consciously, but it weaves through our culture, so that even secular individuals are largely trained to view the natural world this way from a very young age. It is a popular tendency to think of science and religion as being somewhat opposed, but this is one area where the underlying myth – the myth of dominion – runs straight from one into the other. Scientific tradition attempts to be above and apart from the phenomena it studies. Deeply engrained in early scientific investigations of animals was a profound assumption of animals’ inherent inferiority. That assumption, in itself not verifiable at the time, has skewed the results of animal research ever since.
In this system, animals (much like the body) are seen as aspects of a natural world that is fundamentally beneath us – whether we conceive of animals as mindless biological mechanisms, or slaves that exist solely for our benefit. As we dishonor our bodies, so do we dishonor the animal world. That the body is a source of wisdom, knowledge, vitality, pleasure, and meaning is lost in this perspective. Likewise, that animals are wise, intelligent, sensitive, emotional, and lead meaningful (if imperfect) lives for their own sake – suffice to say there has been very little room for that perspective prior to the 21st century.
Now to be clear and fair, I don’t mean to imply that all Christians and all scientists are anti-body and pro-dominion over nature. There are many scientists actively (if cautiously) challenging these ancient assumptions, and many Christians who interpret Genesis as a call to stewardship of the environment, not exploitative dominion. My purpose here is not to draw political lines in the sand regarding our present situation, but rather to investigate the deep, historical roots of our unconscious assumptions.
By way of contrast, Vine Deloria writes of the Sioux – one of the first peoples of North America – and their relationship with the animal world. According to the Sioux, humans were not above nature, but a part of it. Animals were seen as experts in their own sphere of life, and were understood as teachers and companions, rather than objects to be acquired and consumed. The Soiux ate animals (as animals eat animals), but with a spirit of gratitude and humility, rather than a presumption of privilege and superiority. They regarded all animal species as “peoples” who lived and understood the world in their own unique way.
Navigating how to understand and honor the indigenous notion of animals as “people” is a vast topic worthy of much discussion – and something I’m not going to attempt to address in this essay. Instead I’m going to focus on elephants. Because I believe by our own standards of scientific observation, we now have enough data to conclude that elephants are indeed a nonhuman people.
That elephants have complex emotional and social lives has been well documented for decades. They form intricate social systems and have been known to adopt orphans (an action that flies in the face of theories that animals are merely machines programmed to replicate their own genes). Also well documented is their recognition of death – they mourn lost loved ones, and visit the bones of dead elephants with reverence and ceremony. They have a sense of self, recognizing their own images when presented with a mirror, and they have shown themselves to be tool-users and complex problem solvers. Like humans, they suffer devastating psychological effects from trauma, and have shown clear symptoms of PTSD. Their memories are prodigious and they are as fallible to negative emotions as humans – some elephants have taken revenge on their abusers decades after the fact. They are also complex communicators, using a combination of trumpets, squeals, rumbles, gestures, touch, and infrasonic (low-frequency) vibrational communication that can take place over vast distances.
Pushing against the ancient unconscious bias that animals can’t be people is a mountain of data that elephants have far more in common with us than we ever imagined. And yet as is always the case with scientific breakthroughs, the culture lags far behind. In this instance, there may be more resistance than usual – we are deeply invested, emotionally and financially, in believing ourselves to be the only intelligent form of life on earth. That’s a very hard belief to surrender, evidence or no.
So just as the body, a font of wisdom and vitality, has been relegated to unconscious dominion and slavery, so too have elephants, a wise people in their own right, remained our slaves to this day. Some have challenged me – “if elephants are so intelligent, why are they allowing us to abuse and enslave them?” But such arguments don’t hold up when applied to humans either. The basic intelligence of the human organism has never been an inoculation against slavery – as decades of human slavery attest. Consider instead: a very small number of humans develop certain technologies; a larger number of humans learn how to use those technologies; the humans who were not privy to this development are then easy victims for technological “might-makes-right.” I am using technology in the broadest sense, understanding that written language is a technology – something to keep in mind when faced with the fact that the majority of Cambodian humans remain illiterate to this day. All Cambodians belong to the human species – some are born into environments where they learn to use certain technologies (such as written language), others are not. This is not a reflection on human intelligence, but on privilege and power – and ethics.
Furthermore, the ability to use technologies through cultural transmission is only one form of intelligence. Knowing how to effectively navigate a complex ecosystem and manage hundreds of social relationships is another kind. We can pat ourselves on the back for our unique technological accomplishments, but it can equally be argued that our modern lives are riddled with problems and suffering because we no longer know how to navigate our world effectively – why else the dramatic increase of anxiety, depression, mental illness and chronic illness in humans over the last century? Elephants share our complex emotional lives and are equally vulnerable to trauma – but they don’t seem to need anti-depressants. That is, as long as they are left to their own devices.
Attempts to understand elephant language are only just beginning. It is a challenging enterprise, for while they clearly have a complex system of communication with each other, we cannot assume that it has much in common with our human systems of abstract syntax. How then do we bridge the gap?
To answer this question, we have to look at what we have in common with elephants – though perhaps it is an aspect of ourselves that we have long denied.
One thing that we share in common with the elephants: we are embodied creatures with bodies forged for the unique conditions of this particular planet. As we become more willing and open toward the deep reality and wisdom of our bodies – as we get back in touch with the sensual body-consciousness that existed on earth before civilization began – we may in fact come to touch a kind of ancient preverbal intelligence that elephants and humans share.
In a culture where mind and body are split, the disembodied conscious ego reigns supreme, attempting to dominate the unconscious body (and perhaps, the unconscious deeper self). From its perceived position of power, the ego, whose constant instinct is toward control, eagerly denies and suppresses this “other intelligence” that resides below. This encultured process of repressing body awareness is alarmingly similar to how we have justified the exploitation and rape of the natural world.
So we come full circle – the struggle to honor the body, and the struggle to honor the natural world, are deeply intertwined. We have become alienated from elephants in much the same way that we remain alienated from our own human bodies. Healing the one wound may indeed begin with healing the other.
At the end of my time at the elephant sanctuary, I stood before Ning Wan, the elephant with whom I had found the deepest connection, and had a final conversation.
I had a different reaction to each of the elephants at the sanctuary – some inspired fear, others seemed dissociated, or simply indifferent to my presence. I had moments of connection with many of them. But my interactions with Ning Wan were on another level entirely. When she approached, I felt honored. She radiated a deep sense of peace, but also authority; like a priestess of a kind. Of all the elephants at the Sanctuary, only Ning Wan had never been used for commercial purposes. I believe I was able to connect most deeply with her because she was psychologically and emotionally the healthiest elephant on the grounds.
There was one seeming point of contention between us, and that was my digital video camera. As a fieldworker, I was somewhat voracious in wanting to “capture” everything that happened at the Sanctuary. It was during my second encounter with Ning Wan that I first got the very strong impression that she didn’t care for the camera at all. She had approached me just after emerging from her river bath – she came right to me and stopped, even as the other elephants were moving past. I was honored, a little frightened by her interest in me. I was also filming. I wonder, when I analyze that footage, if I will be able to pinpoint any particular moment when the camera became an object of her disdain. It is a stretch to imagine Ning Wan somehow understood the camera and its function – thought she’s certainly seen hundreds of cameras in her day, and observed how humans use them. Rather, I think she noticed that my attention was divided between directly encountering her, and focusing on the camera. In that moment, quite pragmatically, my attention was split between the actual embodied relationship, and my relationship to her abstract image (and everything it might signify in the human world back home). If her elephant intuition told her there was something duplicitous in the divided psyche of the human that stood before her, I can’t entirely say she was wrong.
From that moment on, I was intensely aware of Ning Wan’s reaction to my camera, and began to take greater lengths to keep it off my person when she was nearby. On a subsequent visit, she approached me while my camera was some distance off, and after our interaction, she went right towards it, and after sniffing around my bag, she knocked the camera tripod over with her trunk (fortunately it was undamaged). Of course, I can’t prove that she knocked my camera over on purpose. But frankly, I have a hard time accepting otherwise.
Are you here to connect with me, she seemed to be asking, or are you only here to serve your own human purposes?
Fortunately, my relationship with Ning Wan was not confined to the camera dynamic. I was able to attempt many “conversations” with her, each time humbly trying to understand what was working and what wasn’t. My rational mind would spin stories about what something might mean. But by that stage I understood that the rational ego could not take the lead on this (thought it certainly might help organize the data after the fact). Somatic, embodied communication – sometimes referred to as “attunement” in psychological literature – is more often framed as an implicit process, engaging the global, holistic thinking of the right brain, rather than the more linear syntax of the left. What this means is that just like a human mother and infant, our bodies were communicating meaningfully with each other regardless of the language centers of our brains.
And this brings me to the question at hand – the reason a massage therapist would be interested – perhaps uniquely qualified – to study human-elephant communication: the primacy of touch. Touch is the primal arena of connection and boundary between organisms. In mammals in particular, relationships are mediated, and strengthened, through physical contact. It isn’t only human babies that suffer from lack of contact – all infant mammals suffer when deprived of touch.
Touch is (if you’ll forgive the pun) something of an elephant in the room in our modern western culture. It’s hard to imagine a healthy family without healthy touch. equally important – whatever your sexual mores – touch is the basis of most sexuality and intimacy. And as such, many of us are terrified of touch. We have to ban it in schools and in traditional psychotherapy, because it can mean so much, and yet so many of us don’t know how to handle (or understand) what it means. And yet even the most touch-averse individuals recognize the value of a firm handshake between partners, a gentle hand on the back in solidarity during troubled times, the relief of being embraced and held by a trusted, safe, and beloved other.
Elephants may not share our abstract language brain centers (to be fair, they also have brain structures that humans lack), but they do share our capacity, and our need, for touch. Every time I touched an elephant at the sanctuary, I used my years of experience as a bodyworker to sense into her response. It was messy, inexact work – it had to be. But with every moment of contact, I learned a little bit more.
Healing the Traumatized Soul
The final piece of my answer to the question, “what do elephants have to do with massage therapy?” is simply this: the elephants of our world, just as much as the humans, are in need of healing. There was not an elephant at the sanctuary that had not been ripped away from its family as an infant, and most of them had been subjected to slavery and other abuses over the long decades of their lives. Imagine: an alien race takes a two year old human away from her family, barring her from any opportunity to learn the language or social conventions of her own people, and “communicating” with her solely for the purpose of dominating her spirit – physically beating her when she does not obey. Imagine coming across this human in late middle age, and trying to have a conversation with her – what would she understand? What would she need? How would you seek to touch her humanity, to comfort her soul?
The African elephants, while not used as slaves, are being slaughtered en masse by poachers to feed the illegal ivory trade, still alive and well in China and the USA. Elephants who witness their families being murdered are psychologically scarred, and as adults are prone to rage and violence. As the elders are murdered, elephant society begins to break down. We have done this to them, and they need our help.
The aim of massage therapy – as a healing art – is to touch the wounded soul by touching the wounded body. This is so even when we are “only” releasing the tension from muscles gone rigid from navigating this strange modern existence our bodies have been plunged into. The loss of reverence and connection to the wisdom of the body, and our loss of reverence and connection to the elephants, are two expressions of the same wound. The need to touch the wounded, to offer comfort and care to the forgotten and disenfranchised, in ourselves, and in the natural world, is an archetypal call to heal what is broken.
As we touch and hold the forgotten, the rejected, and abused, we take another small step toward wholeness; toward a world dominated not by power, but by love.