Therapeutic Presence: Mirroring

The second aspect to be discussed is mirroring. Mirroring is a therapeutic technique used to validate the client’s experience, and reflect their self: affect, behaviour and memories back to them. This aspect, unlike empathy, is more tangible and therefore more easily understood. However, it still requires practice and exploration. Carpendale provides us with a number of probing questions that open the gates for reflection (Carpendale, 2006).

What does mirroring have to do with presence?

Presence is the being with an other inside a therapeutic context. Being aware of your own feelings, cognitions and affects, and how these might influence the therapy session. Being aware of time and space, the environment in which the therapy is unfolding, and being mindful of an individual client’s needs. Presence is essential in forming the therapeutic alliance – if the client does not feel that they are heard, seen, or understood, the therapeutic alliance, which is built primarily out of trust, will not flourish.

Mirroring is a core component of presence. When we mirror a client’s affect they recognize that we are not only present in the moment, focusing solely on them, but we also demonstrate a reaching towards understanding. This translates into validation. There are no judgements with mirroring. Mirroring is a verbatim reflection of the client’s experience in the moment, or of a remembered experience. When we mirror we are not adding our own thoughts or interpretations, we are merely reiterating the client’s feelings and experience.

I believe when we mirror it is appropriate to seek clarification. In this way too, the client is offered another way to approach the situation. If we seek clarification, this validates the client’s experience as being entirely their own, with a nod to the empathic response that should be experienced throughout therapy. When we discuss these aspects of therapeutic presence it is difficult to pull them apart and investigate them individually because they are not intended to be isolated – they work together. The whole of our therapeutic presence is comprised of these six aspects.

How do we communicate with mirroring?

We communicate effectively with our reflections of the clients experience. These reflections are not mere repetitions – but they are also not infused with our own thoughts or interpretations. Upon reflection it appears a simple technique, but it is one that requires focus and practice. It is essential to find the balance between merely repeating and adding our own self to the reflection.

The mirroring technique acts in such a way that the client sees themselves reflected in a new light, so that they can infuse meaning, and draw out new interpretations. With our reflections we are holding up a mirror for which they can look into and better understand their self, and their situation.

When words fail and I am grasping clumsily for some understanding, I put the pen down and pick up the paint brush. When expression is contrived or strained through words, art can be my saviour to express what I am hinting at.

I painted “Mirror, Mirror” in response to Carpendale’s question “how do we communicate with mirroring?” IMG_6913

The characteristic mandala is the focus of this image, used in this context as a mirror. Blue, purple and black highlight the mandala, emphasizing its contours with the repetitive strokes. Inside the mirror sits my reflection, with a larger eye seated to the left of my image. In place of the pupil of this larger eye is a koi fish, which extends beyond the eye. Water droplets fill the spaces between this eye and my image, and act as a replacement for my missing eye.

In dialoguing with this image I am drawn to the potent imagery that I rely on, and that I find repeating itself over and over in my art-work. The eye is seen as the window to the soul, and in this way, our mirroring can be understood as something comprised of more than just our words. Mirroring is something that, like empathy, requires all parts of our self – our mind, body, and soul (psyche, spirit). The client can see and feel our mirroring responsiveness through our eyes, body language, and vocal tone. We must be attuned to this throughout the therapy session. The water, a symbol of strong significance which presents itself repeatedly, is representative of the collective unconscious, and the unconscious mind in general. Our mirroring then is opening a window into the client’s unconscious mind, in a similar way to our empathic response.

The koi is a personal symbol, which represents perseverance, ambition and courage. The koi is placed here to represent a direct mirroring of my self within a therapy session. In this instance then, I am the subject of therapy. However, when we think of the meaning behind the koi, we can still apply this to our aspect of mirroring. There is a story called The Yellow River at Hunan, which details the journey of koi fish through the waterfall, Dragon’s Gate. The koi fish who successfully complete the journey through Dragon’s Gate, transform from a koi fish into a dragon. This represents the koi’s ability for change and growth, and when we investigate the symbolic meaning behind the dragon we come to find that the dragon represents growth, luck and development. Therapy is an aim towards change, and furthering self-development. Our mirroring is a significant aspect of our therapeutic presence that provides the client with an opportunity for growth and change, through playing the role of their reflection. When they see their self in such an empathic, understanding way, they are provided with a new way to reflect upon their goals, current development, and life situation.

How were you seen as a child?

This is an important question for us to reflect on. Seen here does not refer to physical appearance, rather, it refers to your true self. We need to reflect on this to recognize our own potential countertransferences in future therapeutic relationships. If we never felt truly seen, understood, validated and so forth, how can we know how to embody it and provide it for a client?

I have led an incredibly privileged childhood, and both of my parents entered my world in an attempt to understand me. The best and most ready example I have of this is my interest in art. I am where I am today because my parents recognized my interest and ability in art, and nurtured this passion. The important thing to remember here is that how one was seen as a child might appear different for different people – it is the experience of being seen that matters. If I had interpreted my parents support and nurturing as a negative thing, I might not be able to reminisce on my childhood so positively, and I might conclude that I was in fact, not seen. However, this is not the case.

I was seen in all other areas of my childhood as well. Not only was I regarded as an artist, creative, energetic soul, whose passions were directed toward both visual and dramatic arts, I was seen as a whole, complete person. I felt understood as a person with a self, and I was supported in all ventures. How my parents interacted with me as a young child shaped who I am today, and informed my self-concept. This support is imperative to a developing self, something one will undoubtedly encounter in therapy, for we are always developing, always reaching for self-actualization.

At the end of this reflection, I was left with one probing question that had been ruminating in my mind.

What benefit does mirroring have on the therapeutic alliance, and process?

The therapeutic alliance is essential for successful therapy, without which there is no trust, and no relationship. Therapy happens in relation to an other. Mirroring demonstrates to the client that you can be trusted, in that, you will stave off judgements and interpretations in order to enter their world and attempt to fully understand them.

Mirroring encourages the therapeutic process, providing the client with freedom to explore their self in a safe, non-judgemental environment. Unconditional positive regard is an integral part of this aspect of mirroring. In order to mirror appropriately, we leave out personal reflections, interpretations and judgements. We recognize the client, and accept and appreciate them for who they are, in the moment. The change that occurs in therapy will happen at the client’s pace.


Mirroring is another aspect of the therapeutic presence that eludes us to a degree. It is nuanced and requires meditative practice. This is part of being present in therapy – always being attuned and aware of your self, body, and cognitions, and challenging them in the moment in an attempt to provide the client with the most beneficial environment wherein change can occur. One must practice each aspect of the therapeutic presence, which as mentioned before, will be a life-long process.


Carpendale, M. (2006). Kutenai Art Therapy Institute Manual. (pp. 45-60).


Therapeutic Presence: Empathy

    Therapeutic presence is a way of being with another person, within a therapeutic context, that reflects the therapist’s full engagement with the client (Geller, 2013). Carpendale suggests there are a number of aspects of presence, that can be examined through different lenses, in order for us to gain a better understanding of what constitutes therapeutic presence, and what it is we should aim for (Carpendale,2006). These aspects are: centering, grounding, containment, empathy, mirroring, and boundaries (Carpendale,2006). The lenses Carpendale suggests are: self, other, metaphor, the manifestation in art, development in childhood and the therapeutic session (Carpendale,2006). Each lens will enliven our understanding of a particular aspect in a different way, and through our examinations we will be able to understand the aspects application in the different arenas in our life (self, other, metaphor and so forth).

    It is important to explore these aspects in relation to our therapeutic presence. We will find that we have strengths in some areas, and are lacking in others. This is significant information to be aware of, so that we can explore how to strengthen and enhance each aspect, integrating them into our therapeutic presence. The first aspect I will explore is empathy.

    Empathy is considered as a ‘being with’ the other person (Carpendale,2006) and from this viewpoint, we could almost consider empathy to constitute the entirety of the therapeutic presence. Rogers presented empathy as one of the core conditions of his person-centered therapy approach (Rogers, 1959, 1961). He defines empathy as a process rather than a state (Rogers,1975) which suggests that empathy is something a therapist can practice, and eventually hone as a skill. It is my assumption that as with any aspect of therapeutic presence, no therapist will ever have successfully honed or developed a skill to a point where growth can no longer occur. That is, empathy, containment, mirroring – any of the aspects of the therapeutic presence – require life-long practice and development. They will alter over time, from moment to moment, and from client to client.

Rogers says of empathy:

“It means entering the private perceptual world of the other and becoming thoroughly at home in it […]being sensitive, moment to moment, to the changing felt meanings which flow in this other person […] moving about in it delicately without making judgments […] not trying to uncover feelings of which the person is totally unaware.” (Rogers,1975).

    Why is empathy so important to the therapeutic process, and in our case, the therapeutic presence? Empathy is related to positive outcome, and supplies a relationship that combats alienation (Rogers,1975). A client unable to express their innermost feelings for fear of being judged or rejected will feel isolated and alone. In a discourse rooted in empathy, the same client will feel an all too real human connection that is inexplicable in nature, and overwhelmingly restorative. There is no longer the fear of rejection, and there is no longer the result of alienation. Through empathic understanding, the therapist meets the client in their world, where they are at, and lays aside all judgements and interpretations. Rogers suggests that another significant reason empathy is so important is because it tells the client that they are valuable, and that someone cares (Rogers,1975). If we consider Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, we see that empathy contributes to the satisfaction of all higher level needs: love/belonging, esteem, and self-actualization (Maslow, 1962).

    Now that I have explored the meaning behind empathy as an aspect, I can explore personal meanings of empathy, how it presents in my art, in relation to others, and most importantly, in the therapeutic setting. The main questions I will be seeking to answer are: How does empathy present itself through my art-work? What metaphors come to mind when you think of empathy? How is empathy expressed and felt in relation to others? How is empathy expressed in the therapeutic setting?

Empathy in Art

    I explored the answer to this question using the paint-brush and my art journal, using a few simple directives: “What is empathy/what does empathy look like”? and “Think of an experience of empathy felt in therapy, or in relation with other. Draw or paint this experience. You can use metaphor to facilitate exploration.”

    In the first image, I very simply drew three circles, or mandalas, overlapping each other. This image is reminiscent of a Venn diagram, wherein the common elements of each set is represented in the overlapping areas. The mandala is a representation of the totality of the self (Jung, 1969), one which I identify with wholeheartedly. This image then directly represents the therapeutic relationship which is rooted in empathy. Each circle represents a separate entity – each circle has its own identity, represented by its own unique colour which emanates from it. In the centre of each circle we find the core of the self – the blue mass, shaped differently in each circle to represent different points of self-development and growth.

Figure 1

Figure 1. Mandalas

    Upon initial reflection I was inclined to suggest that these circles represent the therapeutic relationship itself – the therapist and client, represented in two circles, and the transference relationship embodied in the third. The areas of overlap are a direct representation of empathy as a process – the therapist reaches into the clients world, with their own personality, temperament and interpretations, and lays them aside, holds them at bay so to speak, while enacting empathy. In every relationship with another we bring our selves, there is no way that we can leave it behind. I also would not suggest it. When we enter the world of an other, we are there as visitor and witness, we do not make our permanent home in their world. Therefore I would suggest that if we left our selves behind, we would lose ourselves in the others world in our attempt to be fully empathetic.

    This image denotes the tripartite system to which humans ascribe – we are mind, body and soul. Very simply then, empathy is a bodily experience wherein we enlist our mind, body and soul to be entirely present and open with an other. I would argue that we are not fully present, not fully empathic, if one of these is missing, or not active.

    The next image I drew was in direct response to the second art directive – “Think of an experience of empathy felt in therapy, or in relation with other. Draw or paint this experience. You can use metaphor to facilitate exploration.”

Figure 2

Figure 2. Through your eyes

    This image is an incomplete self-portrait. The breaks in the lines are representative of putting my self aside while interacting with a client, or other, from an empathic stance. The core of my being is present, but I am not, and do not need to be, the focus.

    When I thought of metaphor, I thought about seeing the world of the other, and seeing through their eyes. Again, my eyes are being overshadowed by the eyes of the other. My eyes still remain, my core self still remains while witnessing through the client’s eyes, but they are there to digest the contents of the client’s world so that I can better understand their situation. They are not interpretive, or judging eyes.

    The colour blue holds significant meaning for this understanding of empathy. It is suggestive of water, a clear reference to the unconscious (Jung, 1969). The water bleeds from the client’s eyes, wetting the page. Through my empathic response, I become witness to the unconscious content. In this way, I believe our empathy plays an important role in accessing and truly hearing the client’s unconscious in conscious dialogue.


    Metaphors are an excellent way to illustrate a deeper meaning or felt-sense that everyday language simply can’t achieve. We might find that words fail us at times, and metaphors can be used to express more wholly what we mean. For instance, someone who is angry might refer to themselves as a hot pot boiling over. This denotes a much more detailed, graphic image, and provides us with a valuation of the feeling of anger.

    In regards to empathy, there are a number of metaphors that access the core of what it means to be empathetic. For instance: seeing through someone’s eyes, or being in someone’s shoes. Dante provides us with some excellent allegorical language when it comes to empathy: Virgil acts as a companion to Dante in his journey through hell. This is akin to our idea of empathy as being witness to, being present to, or being a companion through the therapeutic process.

    The idea of worlds also provides a significant metaphor. We enter the other person’s world through the use of empathy, ensuring we make no changes, and remain as visitor, guest, or witness to their world. It is similar to visiting a country or city we have never been to before, and experiencing their unique culture and way of being.

Empathy in relation to other

    Empathy is a multi-faceted concept that I think is too often simplified to “understanding an others emotions” or “mirroring” an others emotions. Feeling entirely overwhelmed by an others emotions to the point where you become the focus rather than the client is dis-advantageous. You exhaust your energies and your focus and you are no longer a present and helpful witness.

    I will provide a brief account of an interaction with a client wherein I practised empathic witnessing, and the results were favourable.


    Rosie has been discussed before. She is a geriatric African Nova-Scotian living in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Her primary diagnosis is schizoaffective disorder bipolar type, and she exhibits OCD like behaviours. She becomes increasingly anxious when she is experiencing a hallucination, and she becomes engrossed in these – interacting with them both verbally and physically.

    One evening while Rosie was experiencing an intense hallucination, she became increasingly anxious and frightened. Instead of distracting her from the hallucination, or denying its existence (because for her the hallucination is very much a reality, regardless of whether we can see it or not), I was witness. I reminded her of my presence, through physically being near her (keeping in mind her need for personal space and respecting this). In the throes of her hallucination she was almost entirely non-verbal, other than in response to the hallucination itself. Therefore, my presence was all that I could offer her, as a sort of grounding mechanism to reality, without invalidating her current experience. In this way, I gently, and slowly entered her world.

    After, Rosie remarked how frightened she was, and I echoed her sentiment. Not that I was frightened – I can not lay claim to a sensation or feeling I have yet to experience. This too works to invalidate her experience. Rather, I expressed how she was frightened – how frightening this hallucination must have been to cause her so much anxiety. She continued the conversation, expressing her intense anxiety in reaction to this hallucination, describing her bodily sensations (heart beating rapidly, shaking). Again, I acknowledged these feelings and sensations, without suggesting that I too experienced them. Through my echoing her feelings, I became a validation for her, a sort of container outside of herself to acknowledge the experience and her reaction to it.

Empathy in the therapeutic relationship

    Empathy in the therapeutic relationship is similar to empathy in relation to other – this is what therapy is – a relationship between therapist and client. It is important to remember what empathy is, and how it manifests itself inside the self, our art, and through metaphor, so that we can harvest these grains and apply them in the therapeutic relationship.

    Empathy is a presence, a process whereby we lay aside our personal prejudices, judgements, and interpretations to make room for the client to grow. It is a facilitative agent of change, without it, there would be a block. If the client feels that he is being judged, he will hide things, avoid the main issue that has brought him to therapy, or worse yet, leave the therapeutic relationship entirely. Empathy then is a major component in trust within the therapeutic relationship. The client will be unable to trust you, that you truly care for and have unconditional positive regard for him, if he can sense a judgement or a negative appraisal.

    Empathy avoids interpretation – which seems counter-intuitive when we are talking about insight-oriented therapies, especially when we speak of psychodynamic approaches which are built on Freudian ideas and concepts. However, it is imperative that we avoid interpretation – of both words and art-work. Our interpretations will invariably colour the clients own interpretations of their work, and if we make a premature, or wrong interpretation, this could annihilate the therapeutic alliance entirely. An interpretation could easily be misconstrued as a judgement by the client, and because of this it should be avoided.


    Empathy is one of the most important conditions for person-centered therapy, and a significant aspect in therapeutic presence. I would argue that without empathy, there is no therapeutic presence. I believe that empathy is the bed-rock from which all else is built. Empathy requires practice and regular focus. At the outset of this paper I suggested that each of these aspects that Carpendale proposes require life-long dedication and development. They will change over time, and from client to client. This rings especially true for empathy.


Carpendale, M. (2006). Kutenai Art Therapy Institute Manual. (pp. 45-60).

Geller, S. M. (2013). Therapeutic Presence: An Essential Way of Being. In Cooper, M., Schmid, P. F., O’Hara, M., & Bohart, A. C. (Eds.). The Handbook of Person-Centred Psychotherapy and Counselling (2nd ed). pp. 209-222. Basingstoke: Palgrave.

Jung, C.G. (1969). Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, Collected Works of C.G. Jung, (Volume 9). Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.

Maslow, A. (1962). Toward a psychology of being. Princeton, NJ, US: D Van Nostrand.

Rogers, C. (1959). A Theory of Therapy, Personality and Interpersonal Relationships as Developed in the Client-centered Framework. In S. Koch, (ed.). Psychology: A Study of a Science. Vol. 3: Formulations of the Person and the Social Context. New York: McGraw Hill.

Rogers, C. (1961). On Becoming a Person: A Therapist’s View of Psychotherapy. London: Constable.

Rogers, Carl. (1975). Empathic: An Unappreciated Way of Being. The Counseling Psychologist. Vol. 5, No. 2-10.


Soft light emanates from the candles lining the pine “community” style table. As it grows darker outside, the wicks in the candles lose their shape and size. The light begins to slowly fade, creating a calm serenity. The music rages on, pulsing through the body like a life-line, suffocating and resuscitating my focus in waves.

The whirring noise of the coffee grinder interrupts my thoughts. Only briefly, before I am brought back with another welcome distraction. Two girls sit in the corner, partially facing each-other, partially facing the window. Their indistinct chatter lulls in and out of my ear. They are enjoying themselves, just like everyone else here.

I can’t help but think, it’s been a long 6 months since I have put pen to paper. I am stuck in an unending habit of writer’s block. And it is a habit, an expectation, an assumption. I have fostered a negative relationship with writing. The assumption that I have nothing of worth to produce facilitates my inability to write.

The heart shape in my vanilla latte moves from side to side as I press the cup to my lips. The milk and vanilla create the perfect commixture of flavours to compliment the freshly roasted beans.

These bursts of creativity come on unannounced, and leave just as abruptly. Like the first snowfall of November. Can I really waste my breath complaining? Before now I was complaining about being unable, and unmotivated to paint, or draw. Here I am now, painting nearly every day, and unable to write.

Perhaps the flip-flop between the two is necessary for my creative production. My focus strays – the devotion I lend to each art is immeasurable. It’s merely a matter of finding that devotion.

I find it here, from time to time. But just as before, in these states, it is fleeting. I can’t rush it. I can’t push it on. The product of forced writing is contrived and uncomfortable. The discomfort resonates long after I lay my pen down and close the book.

I believe there are therapeutic aspects underlying the act of writing. I often use it as my mirror – I see myself reflected in the pages. I can’t lie when I write. It would be like pretending to be something I’m not.

So, I remain stuck in this sort of limbo, forever destined to write about how miserable and morose I am, suffering as a writer with endless writer’s block.

Until I’m not.

These pages, my mirror, currently reflect my struggles: my inability to write or create, the fear of never writing again, repetition bordering on neurosis.

So, I leave the page blank for now, until my mind is clear, and I am ready to introspect, and analyze. Once I lay my fears and anxieties aside, the flow of thought will return just as before.


Inside: Dr. Albert Bandura

Dr. Bandura is a Canadian Psychologist and Professor Emeritus of social science in Psychology at Stanford University. His major contributions to the field include: the Bobo doll experiment, social cognitive theory, social learning theory, self-efficacy and reciprocal determinism. He has been awarded with the Guggenheim Fellowship for Social Sciences, US & Canada in 1972; and the National Medal of Science for Behavioral and Social Science in 2016. In 2015, “Moral Disengagement: How People Do Harm and Live With Themselves” was published. In this interview we discuss the theory of moral disengagement, the contents of this book, and its real-life applications.

Hello Dr. Bandura. Before we begin discussing your book “Moral Disengagement: How People Do Harm and Live With Themselves” I would like to ask you a few preliminary questions pertaining to your career as a whole. Firstly, would you be able to tell our readers what initially drew you to Psychology?

My choice of psychology as my profession was by chance rather than by design. I commuted to the University of British Columbia with engineers and premeds. They enrolled in early-morning courses so I searched for a course that would fill the early-morning void. A student left a course catalogue on the library table. In flipping through it I noticed a psychology course that would fill the gap. I enrolled in it and found my profession. In addition to the fascinating subject matter, I was intrigued by the complexity of the discipline. Psychology is the only core discipline that integrates determinants across disciplinary lines in its causal structure: In addition to determinants of intrapsychic life, it includes social, institutional, biological, and cross-cultural determinants as well.

The application of psychological knowledge for human betterment in virtually all walks life was another highly attractive feature of this discipline.

Who would you cite as the most influential people in your life (this can be anyone, it does not have to be limited to those within the field of Psychology). In what way did they influence you?

My parents were the most influential figures in my life. They migrated to Canada from Eastern Europe. They had no formal education or financial resources to build their new life. My father worked on the railroad laying tracks for the Trans-Canada railway. When he saved enough money he purchased a homestead. These homesteaders were the pioneers of the Canadian nation. They had to manually convert heavily wooded land into farmland, build their own homes, schools, churches, small towns and communities. They were extraordinary models of resourcefulness, ingenuity, unwavering self-efficacy, and resilient hopefulness in the face of adversity.

These extraordinary formative years provided the foundation for my theory of human agency, that people have a hand in shaping the course their lives take. In my book, Self-Efficacy: The Exercise of Control, I document how people’s belief in their efficacy determine their aspirations, motivation, emotional well-being and accomplishments.

Based on your experience both as a student and as a professor, would you say there are many differences between how things were taught in the past compared to how they are taught now? Are there classes you have not taught but would be interested in teaching?

The small town in which I grew up was woefully short of educational resources. Both the elementary and high school were housed in the same school house. Only a few teachers taught the entire high school curriculum. They were not always well-versed in the subject matters. I had to take some courses by correspondence. A few of us decided we could educate ourselves. The course content was perishable but mastery of self-directed learning has been an invaluable asset throughout my career. The students of today have the entire body of knowledge at their fingertips wherever they may reside. This vastly expands their opportunity to preside over their own learning.

Before addressing specific issues I will explain briefly how people inflict harm and retain a positive self-regard and live in peace with themselves. People adapt standards of right and wrong that serve as guides and deterrents for their conduct. They do things that give them satisfaction and a sense of self-wroth, and refrain from violating their moral standards because such actions evoke self-condemnation. Self-sanctions keep behavior in line with moral standards. However, we are witnessing a pervasive moral paradox in which individuals in all walks of life commit inhumanities that violate their moral standards and still retain a positive self-view and remain untroubled by the harm they cause. They achieve this paradoxical adaptation through eight psychosocial mechanisms whereby they selectively disengage their moral self-sanctions from their detrimental conduct.

Of the eight mechanisms, moral justification is especially powerful. It not only enlists morality in the mission or cause but also disengages morality in its destructive execution. Perpetrators absolve their harmful behavior as serving worthy causes. In exonerative comparison, belief that one’s harmful actions will prevent more human suffering than they cause makes the behavior look altruistic. Euphemistic language in its sanitizing and convoluted forms cloaks harmful behavior in innocuous language and removes humanity from it.

People evade personal accountability for harmful conduct by displacing responsibility to others and by dispersing it widely so that no one bears responsibility. There is no moral issue to contend with if no perceived harm has been done. Judging the harmfulness of given policies and practices is therefore the major battleground in moral disengagement. Perpetrators disregard, minimize, distort, or even dispute harmful effects. In dehumanization, perpetrators exclude those they maltreat from their category of humanity by divesting them of human qualities or attributing animalistic or demonic qualities to them. Rendering their victims subhuman weakens moral qualms over treating them harshly. A further mode of self-exoneration blames victims for bringing the maltreatment on themselves.

In my book, Moral Disengagement, I explain the myriad ways in which people compromise their moral standards in corporate, gun, tobacco and chemical industries; in terrorism and military counterterrorism; the death penalty; and the most urgent problem facing humankind in this century, the preservation of an environmentally sustainable future.

In the introductory chapter in your book, you outline what moral disengagement is, the loci of moral disengagement as well as the social cognitive theory. Would you be able to elaborate on the victim locus, which in my opinion is possibly the most interesting and multifaceted.

As explained above, treating one’s foes as subhuman, deranged, demonic, or bestial reduces moral restraints against detrimental conduct. Bin Laden bestialized the American enemy as “the most ravenous of animals”; ISIS beheaders call their enemy “dogs”; The gun industry called those supporting gun regulation as “loony leftists.” The tobacco industry derogated research that demonstrates adverse health effects as “half-truths in the hands of fanatics,” “scientific malpractice.” Financial traders disparaged their clients as “muppets” (British slang for a stupid person who is easily manipulated); the CEO of a mining company described mining regulators as “crazies” and “greeniacs.” Abu Ghraib guards degraded, humiliated and animalized Iraqi detainees. Naked detainees were forced to wear leashes and crawl for hours like dogs, to bark to the sound of a whistle, and to crawl with guards mounted on their backs like jockeys.

You define moral disengagement as a circumvention of moral standards, which often results in good people doing bad things without feeling responsible for their harmful behaviour. In your book, you offer a number of excellent examples that illustrate this perfectly. I am sure we all practice moral disengagement in our own lives (whether on a small or large scale), but it is difficult to wrap one’s head around the way in which certain groups and individuals have been able to commit such atrocities and yet still be able to maintain their sense of moral disengagement. It is my understanding that through self-exoneration, these individuals rid themselves of blame, and guilt (whether that be by shifting the blame onto the victim, which is possibly the most cruel form of self-exoneration, or shifting the blame onto a system). When I imagine committing horrible acts such as those outlined in your book, I imagine myself not being able to fully rid myself of the feelings of guilt, and shame. Do you think that there is a permanent unconscious feeling of guilt that haunts those who commit these acts? Would you consider self-exoneration a one-time atonement, or more of a repetitive necessity, such as confessional. Is this more dependent on the individual and the act committed?

People who remain firmly convinced in the rightness of their cause and successfully disengage moral self-sanctions in implementing their cause have no reason to be plagued by unconscious feelings of guilt. Bin Laden is a good case in point. He provides an excellent example of how extensive inhumanities can be perpetrated with equanimity using the entire moral disengagement practices. Through moral justification, bin Laden sanctifies his global terrorism as serving a holy imperative: “We will continue this course, because it is part of our religion, and because Allah ordered us to carry out jihad so that the word of Allah may remain exalted to the heights.” He displaces the responsibility for the holy terror to Allah; they are carrying out their “religious duty.” Through attribution of blame, he construes terrorist strikes as morally justifiable defensive reactions to humiliation and atrocities perpetrated by “decadent infidels”: “We are only defending ourselves. This is a defensive Jihad.” By exonerative comparison with the nuclear bombing of Japan, and the toll of economic sanctions on Iraqi children, the Jihad takes on an altruistic appearance: “When people at the ends of the earth, Japan, were killed by the hundreds of thousands, young and old, it was not considered a war crime, it is something that has justification. Millions of children in Iraq is something that has justification.” He bestializes the American enemy as “lowly people,” perpetrating acts that “the most ravenous of animals would not descend to.” Terrorism is linguistically sanitized as “the winds of faith have come” to eradicate the “debauched” oppressors. His followers see themselves as holy warriors who achieve a blessed eternal life through their martyrdom.

The soldiers of World War II returned as heroes with pride in their accomplishments because they fought a just war. Many soldiers returned from Vietnam and Iraq haunted by guilt and stress disorders. They were persuaded in the morality of these wars only to discover that they fought under false pretenses with a deeply divided nation on the morality of these lengthy military campaigns. Realizing the falsity of the moral justifications is guilt provoking for the harm done. A new military syndrome has been created called “moral injury” in which soldiers are haunted by feelings of guilt, betrayal, self-loathing and self-harm. Unlike PTSD, which is rooted in traumatic combat stressors, moral injury arises from violating deeply held moral convictions on spurious grounds.

In Chapter 2 you say “in moral justification, rightness is used directly to turn harmful behaviour into good behaviour.” Those who believe they are doing something “right” or for the “greater good” eliminate any blame for their harmful behaviour. Do you think it is more difficult to show the harmful nature of a person’s behaviour when they think they are right and justified in what they are doing? Do you have to first illustrate to them that their behaviour is not right if it is harming others?

In exonerative moral justifications, wrongdoers do not deny their harmful means. They view them as serving worthy purposes. This legitimizes and sanitizes their harmful practices. In consequential utilitarian justification based on common good, some must be sacrificed for the benefit of many. Terrorists, who view themselves as “freedom fighters,” publicize the harm they cause rather than deny it.

Last year there was a tragic shooting at Pulse nightclub, where 49 people lost their lives, and another 53 were left injured. The obvious target in this scenario was the LGBTQ community, but bystanders were so quick to judge the scenario as an instance of religious extremism, and quickly began using the Muslim community as a scapegoat. Why do you think it was easier for bystanders to shift the attention from the LGBTQ community onto the Muslim community in America? Is this a reflection on how both communities are viewed in America?

The killer was an American-born Algerian raised as a Muslim. In his 911 call shortly after the shooting, he swore allegiance to the leader of the Islamic State in Iraq. Given the hostile national climate regarding Muslims, this tragic incident was readily used as further evidence that Muslims are dangerous.

In chapter 4 you discuss the NRA, and the overwhelming ignorance towards gun ownership presented by the NRA and gun owners in general. There is a dialogue surrounding the NRA that more often than not points the blame to mental illness when it comes to the misuse of firearms (in murder-suicides, mass shootings and the like). How do you propose this dialogue is influencing the stigma surrounding mental illnesses? Do you believe that it is worse in America or in Canada?

Mass killings are performed rapidly with semi-automatic military style rifles equipped with large killing capacity. Lanza killed 20 young children and six staff members with 154 bullets fired in under 5 minutes. NRA shifts the contributing factors to mass killings from deficient regulation of lethal weapons to mental illness. In the oft repeated causal cliché, “It is people not guns that kill people,” the NRA deletes the means by which people kill people.

Only about 4% of violence is attributable to mental illness. The severely mentally ill use guns mainly to kill themselves rather than to kill strangers. La Pierre not only diverted attention to mental illness but demonized the mentally ill as “genuine monsters. . . that are so deranged, so evil, so possessed by voices and driven by demons that no sane person can even possibly comprehend them.”

Canada does not engage in causal displacement. Canadians do not venerate guns, they regulate them, and are spared mass killings.

There seems to be an epidemic of police brutality against African-Americans in the United-States. In fact, you could say that it has existed for quite some time. Why do you think people are so quick to dismiss these cases of racial profiling and defend police officers with the assumption that they were “just doing their jobs”? Do you think it is easier for members of one group to morally disengage when acts of evil do not directly affect them, but involve another group altogether?

Police are granted considerable discretionary power in judging and protecting their safety. Police behavior is often based on their own social and moral codes. Given widespread societal discriminatory practices, some members of police forces are likely to be prone to violence against African Americans. My chapter on Capital Punishment documents the prominent role that moral disengagement plays in public support of the death penalty, jurors sentencing persons to death, and executioners who have to kill them. It remains a problem of future research to determine the role that moral disengagement plays in police violence.

A number of factors shield police from the consequences of violent misconduct. Victims are intimidated from reporting maltreatment. Informal police codes prohibit informing or testifying against fellow officers. Police administrators are quick to defend their officers to protect their public image. As a result, charges of police violence are often dismissed.

After Brexit, there was an an influx of racist and prejudicial behaviour. Do you think that Brexit acted as a vehicle for racism that already existed in Britain, and that this encouraged Native Britons to fully disengage themselves from non-natives? Would this be an example of moral disengagement at the agency locus?

A good share of the British population views immigration as impairing the way of life in their society. As a member of the European Union, the United Kingdom was required to admit a certain number of refugees. This requirement undoubtedly contributed to the social pressure to exit from the European Union (see question 12 for other factors fueling the radical right movement).

You mention that epiphenomenalists argue that there are neural networks that operate outside of our awareness and control, and that this strips humans of personal identity and agency; thus arguing that individuals should not be held responsible for what they cannot control (Pg. 41). This sounds reminiscent of arguments used for rapists, (victims are blamed for enticing rape so the rapist could not control themselves Pg. 20), and incidents of racial profiling in court cases. This indicates to me that there is a bigger issue at hand; this is more systemic than individual. There are a number of systems that have a significant influence on us as individuals, and as a society. We are so easily removed and we are so able to disassociate. Why do you think this is, and how do you suggest we try to be more engaged as individuals and as a society?

In arguing that people’s behavior is regulated by neutral networks that operate outside of their awareness and control, epiphenomenalists face a formidable ethical problem for which they have no solution. It is pointless to hold anyone responsible for their behavior if they have no control over it. Criminals should not be held personally accountable for their crimes, nor police for abusive enforcement practices, jurors for biased sentencing, and jailers for maltreatment of inmates. They can all disclaim responsibility on the grounds that their neural networks made them do it.

Such a view would erode the personal and social ethics that undergird a civil society. How would people create and maintain a civil society if its members were divested of conscious regulation for their actions? Epiphenomenalists have been unable to explain how nonethical neuronal processes produce ethical and socially responsible conduct. The Moral Disengagement book describes their failed efforts. As mindful agents, people are generative, creative, proactive, and reflective, not simply reactive to experience. They use their sensory, motor, and cerebral systems to accomplish their tasks and goals that give meaning, direction, and satisfaction to their lives.

Human adaptation and change are rooted in social systems. Therefore, personal agency operates within a broad network of sociostructural influences. In agentic transactions, people are both producers and products of social systems. Much of the moral disengagement is collective not just individual. Collective moral disengagement at the social system level requires a network of participants vindicating their harmful practices through moral disengagement.

Just this year, a man rose to power in America who is arguably unfit for the job. There have been many debates surrounding his candidacy, and many have turned violent. Do you think the act of voting for him was in some way a reaction to perceived injustices against the American people? How would you explain the justification for some of the aggressive and violent behaviour enacted by both Trump supporters and anti-Trump protesters?

We are witnessing a global rise of radical right movements. They are the product of major social dislocations. The change from the rural era to the industrial era transformed people’s lives. We are now in the midst of another sweeping transformative change from the industrial era to the information cyberworld era. Many people are left behind by these dislocating changes. With growing automation, globalization, and outsourcing, they are losing their livelihood and feel marginalized with social elites and immigrants destroying their traditional way of life. The Trumps and La Pens exploit people’s discontent, fears, and resentments and portray themselves as their saviors and social reformers.

After first completing your book I was amazed at how many times I found myself nodding along with what you were saying and fervently uttering agreeance. I started to witness small acts of moral disengagement and I became more aware of the language used to justify certain wrongs. I saw this in my daily life, in political life, and in my work life. This heightened awareness has helped me to truly assess a situation, and to see things from a moral disengagement perspective, so to speak. I think it is human to err, and to make excuses for our mistakes. Perhaps, this moral disengagement is a defense mechanism to protect us from the mental anguish of taking responsibility for horrendous acts. Do you think that moral disengagement is a defense mechanism to protect us from resulting neuroses?

When people engage in behavior that violates their moral standards, they use methods of moral disengagement to neutralize aversive self-sanctions. “Defense mechanism” is a Freudian construct in which psychological defenses are used to repress tabooed impulses. While defense phenomenon are linguistically similar in both approaches the theories differ markedly in the nature of the threat, how it is managed, and the functions the mechanisms serve. In addition, some of the mechanisms in the theory under discussion engage morality in the service of detrimental behavior by portraying them as serving worthy purposes
Moral disengagement does not reside solely in people’s minds. As previously noted, some of it is built into the structures of social systems that enable wrongdoers to disavow responsibility for this harmful behavior. Subordinates view themselves as simply carrying out orders so they bear no responsibility for their actions. Authorities create mazy chains of authorization, sanction, detrimental conduct surreptitiously, keep themselves intentionally uninformed of their use, and devise insulating social arrangements that permit deniability of wrongdoing. Moreover, in the collective form, participation in wrongdoing is widely dispersed, which diminishes a new personal responsibility.

Do you think that knowing about moral disengagement makes a person more likely to take responsibility for their attitudes and behaviours?

When people know the methods of moral disengagement they see through them. This diminishes their effectiveness both personally and socially.

I would like to close this interview by thanking you for participating, and by looking to the future. If you were to give future Psychologists a piece of advice, what would it be?

Fight cynicism that efforts at change are futile. Build people’s sense of personal and collective efficacy to enable them to better their lives. Make it difficult for people to strip humanity from detrimental conduct. Promote moral engagement in social practices that foster inclusive, socially just, and humane societies.

Tea for Two

We lived our days out within the confines of a safe-haven of inspiration. Where the tea and coffee flowed endlessly, coating our bones and minds with tidbits of information we deemed important enough to share with the rest of the world. Day in, and day out, we would sit and soothe our souls with our words and the rich taste of perfectly ground Arabica beans.

It started out slowly. I watched him write effortlessly playing with words and form, spilling his thoughts onto the page in a calm, articulated manner. This was a vision of genius, and silently I challenged myself to push my boundaries, to test my abilities as a creative force.


Inside those walls is where I toyed with the idea of myself as a different kind of artist, with a different flare for creativity. Poetry was where I was most comfortable. It was where I flourished. I spent many a day writing poetry, listening to music, and people watching. The more I assayed my environment, the more I became interested in assessing human behaviour, emotion, motivation and the like. I slowly ventured into academic writing, and this academic and creative writing titillated me in more ways than poetry had done for quite some time.

I developed my craft with him by my side, encouraging me and ensuring the flow of Centro House never ended. I have traveled to many different cities, experienced the taste of different blends, enjoyed warm and comforting environments, and I have yet to find a place as inspiring and nurturing as here. The words flow from me like water in a river, soaking my page with the nectar of the deepest perimeters of my mind. Fresh air is breathed into my lungs here. I am reborn and renewed again and again ad infinitum with each sip, with each drop dangling in the back of my throat. It is a religious, metaphysical, fulfilling experience.

It seems unusual to speak of a coffee room with such pious acclaim. But here is where I found myself, here is where I came to be. The writer, the artist, the perfect communion of the two. And two there were: he and I. I’ll have coffee and he’ll have tea; and a little intellectualism for the both of us.

Lucid Dreaming and Sleep Paralysis

I awoke motionless, my body pinned to the bed by some inexplicable force. All the muscles in my body felt taut and no amount of will-power could move my arms, legs, neck, not even my smallest finger. I experienced an intense fear and anxiety wash over my body as I tried to shake myself awake. The bed rocked in tandem with the shaking sensation I felt in my body; shaking as though it were convulsing. After what felt like days pass I was able to force my eyes open as my body continued to lay perfectly still in the bed. I stared into the darkness that worked tirelessly to engulf me, and right before my eyes stood a shadowed figure— menacing, looming, insidious. My chest tightened and fear continued to paralyze my body. Unable to move, unable to speak, I stared into the darkness wondering where this eldritch horror had come from. Within seconds it was gone, my muscles slackened and I was able to speak. Unable to return to sleep I lay staring at the ceiling questioning the events that transpired.

I recognize how close within the realm of possibility it was that I was experiencing a hallucination. I am otherwise asymptomatic and have never been formally diagnosed with schizophrenia, paranoia, or as experiencing delusional thinking or hallucinations. The question then remains, what did I experience? Is it at all possible that lucid dreaming and sleep paralysis are closely related phenomena? Can we suggest that, in a way, my dream image projected itself into waking life as I struggled to release myself from the grips of sleep paralysis? Was it a sort of residue from my sleeping state presented in my waking state. This also begs the question of what state of consciousness we are experiencing while we dream lucidly, and how different it is from our conscious state in comparison to non-lucid dreaming. Are we still experiencing yet another state of consciousness while waking from sleep paralysis, or is this merely another corner of our vast conscious experience​?

This is not the first time this sort of lucid projection has happened to me, and I have heard similar reports from others. Jorge Conesa (2002) helps illustrate what exactly could be occurring. He determines that dreamers become aware of their paralyzed state during the sleep paralysis episode, as they become aware of their inability to move. Typically, dreamers try to rouse themselves from the state. He reports having an out-of-the-body-experience (OBE) in 1969 in conjunction with his sleep paralysis episode (Conesa, 2002). This out of body experience, although not entirely the same, seems rather similar to what I have experienced in the past while in a state of sleep paralysis. Being consciously aware of both my paralysis and my lucidity while in this state is increasingly unnerving, and regardless of whether there is a non-paranormal, but rather a realistic and plausible response to my question of how the images in my mind projected into the real world, I am still led to believe that there is a correlation between sleep paralysis and lucid dreaming that creates a bridge of some sort to allow for these projections (hallucinations). This bridge allows for dream content to project in reality. Again, this is a sort of dream residue left from the lucid dream. It is as if the body is roused from the sleeping state too quickly and the dream is still occurring, so these hallucinations occur, creating some level of anxiety and fear in its sleeper. As I force my eyes open I remain mentally aware of the dream content, and rather quickly become alerted to the dream content’s projections in the real world. In the sleepy state however, I find it difficult to make this distinction: that the images I see are dream residue, or mere hallucinations. The fear I experience while in these states is seemingly insurmountable.

It may help before we proceed in these discussions to define lucid dreaming and sleep paralysis, so as to provide our readers with some basis of understanding. Simply put, a lucid dream is a dream in which the dreamer is aware that they are dreaming. The dreamer may be able to exert some level of control over the dream and it’s direction (Kahan, 1994). Sleep paralysis occurs when the body becomes paralyzed and the dreamer is unable to move, speak or react to the world around them. There are two general forms of sleep paralysis: one which occurs prior to falling asleep, referred to as hypnagogic, or predormital sleep paralysis and the second which occurs upon waking, where the person becomes aware prior to the cessation of the REM period. This state is referred to as hypnopomic or postdormital sleep paralysis (WebMD). Interestingly, sleep paralysis has been linked to such disorders as anxiety, sleep apnea, narcolepsy, generalized stress, and migraines (Ohayon, M.; Zulley, J.; Guilleminault, C.; Smirne, S, 1999; Terrillon, J.; Marques-Bonham, S., 2001). In their researches, Jalal, Romanelli and Hinton found that typically, hallucinations accompany sleep paralysis, due to the heightened awareness of the dreamer (Jalal, Baland; Romanelli, Andrea; Hinton, Devon E., 2015), and this seemingly answers our question of what was occurring: I was experiencing hallucinations.

HIshikawa (1979) and Hufford (1982) expand upon hypnagogic and hypnopompic experiences (HHE’s) as including auditory and visual hallucinations, feelings of pressure on the chest, suffocating, choking, floating and out of body experiences (as cited by Cheyne, Rueffer and Newby-Clark, 1999). These experiences when accompanying sleep paralysis appear more vivid, elaborate and multimodal, therefore making them more terrifying (Hufford, 1982; Takeuchi, Miyasita, Inugami, Sasaki and Fukuda, 1994; as cited by Cheyne, Rueffer and Newby-Clark, 1999). It has been suggested that a hyper-vigilant state is created upon awakening in a sleep paralysis state, due primarily to the need for survival (Cheyne, J., 2003), and it has been hypothesized that the amygdala is heavily involved in this threat-activation system, which could help explain the hallucinatory components dreamers experience while in their paralyzed stat (Sharpless, B., McCarthy, K., Chambless, D., Milrod, B., Khalsa, S., & Barber, J., 2010).

Paralysis during sleep is not abnormal, we are paralyzed every night in REM sleep. Muscle atonia occurs during REM sleep so that we do not act out our dreams (Carskadon, M. A., & Dement, W. C., 1994). When we wake from REM sleep our bodies should respond accordingly, and our mobility should return. When we experience sleep paralysis our mind becomes aware of our paralyzed state and we continue to experience paralysis, even after REM sleep has stopped. This is where we begin to experience paranormal and otherwise inexplicable phenomenon (witness to otherworldly hallucinations including evil spirits and demons). Terrifying as it is, these visions are harmless and all we are able to do is wait patiently for the episode to end. It may be possible to bring the episode to a swift end by practising and honing methods used to wake the body and mind simultaneously out of this state. It is my firm belief that there is more to sleep paralysis than merely “stress” or “anxiety” and that the hallucinations we witness are much more personalized and tailored to our personal psyche. Understanding any underlying causes may contribute to avoiding or treating sleep paralysis and the accompanying HHE’s. With anything, treating the cause not the symptom will prove much more beneficial than focusing solely on symptom control.

I am still not satisfied with our current understanding of sleep paralysis and HHE’s. There must be some alternate explanation, there must be some personalization of HHE’s. Is it realistic to assume that a window is opened between the dream world and the waking world to allow for the exchange of mental content while experiencing sleep paralysis, or is it much more likely that these hallucinations stem from an evolutionary necessity to keep ourselves safe? They evoke fear and anxiety in us, and stimulate our fight or flight response. According to Cheyne (2003), our threat vigilance system encourages us to interpret ambiguous stimuli as dangerous or evil, in order to guard against potentially threatening objects, thus increasing the likelihood of our survival. Are the ambiguous stimuli only ambiguous because our subconscious mind continues to protect us against much more insidious forms of the stimuli. Upon further analysis of the stimuli, will we find that they actually expose us to deeper and darker parts of our psyche? Is our fear a valid response because we fear the reality of ourselves and the repressed aspects of our minds? This too can be qualified from an evolutionary standpoint: the reason our superego structure protects us from the deep recessed of our subconscious is because the personal and cultural memories, histories and experiences are far too intense, questionable, or gruesome for our conscious psyche to handle. This is why even when we dream and these thoughts and memories rush to the forefront of our minds, they continue to be masked through manifest content. We have heard this many times before in Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams (1900): this is not new information. However, it would make sense for our hallucinations to be related to the manifest content in our dreams, and perhaps in our sleep paralysis state our superego is weakened even more and the manifest content evolves into the latent content it so tirelessly tries to mask. Thus our hallucinations more closely resemble the latent content, invoking fear and anxiety in us. We try to escape this wicked reality, and continue to repress even these hallucinations. We fear the answers our mind protects us from, so we fail to ask the questions. 

Although I believe that what we experience can much more readily be explained through personal analysis the question still remains: are incubi, succubi and evil spirits real? They fall more within the realm of paranormal and since this is not only not my area of expertise, I do not have a vested interest in these phenomenon, therefore I can’t justify concocting some mediocre response to this question. I can say, however, that the experience of having encountered one such spirit is of no less value, regardless of how real it is. These experiences do not need to be defined as real in order for us to experience the fear and anxiety they so amply provide us with. Perhaps, in addiction to this, they offer us insight into our psyche and our current mental state. I still believe that the hallucinations we witness while in these states are not unrelated to our previous dreaming state: rather, they are exact or manipulated versions of our dream images. It is possibly the most real way to experience a dream, the absolute most lucid form of dreaming. It is important too, just as with any interpretative practice, to focus on the emotions elicited while in such a state as sleep paralysis. Our initial conception of the hallucination may help us understand previous thoughts or feelings we had prior to sleep paralysis. I have read that it is well within normalcy to have a fear response to these phenomenon, and as was mentioned earlier this may be due to our need for survival (fear is what keeps us safe from harm). However, should we analyze the exact image we experienced in our sleep paralysis state, the emotional response we had to it, and any REM related dreams we had prior to the onset of awareness. With this, we may be able to determine if these are interrelated and how. If we can determine any extraneous stimuli that influence sleep paralysis we may be able to control for it, at least to some degree. These would need to occur on a person by person basis. There are a multitude of ways in which sleep paralysis can be influenced; stress, anxiety, over-tiredness, sleep apnea and so forth. I am unable to use my past experience as an example because the fear I experienced continued to paralyze me well after my muscles slackened from the sleep paralysis. To this end, I was unable to determine with any confidence the exact profile of my hallucination, and my mind was wiped clean of any dreams I had throughout the night. Unfortunately because of this I am currently unable to begin building a case around my sleep paralysis patterns and the kinds of hallucinations I witness while in these states. I can say that I have experienced sleep paralysis all of three times before this most recent experience, and that typically it occurs while my stress is unbridled. I can make no further comments without it being mere speculation. Should this occur again, perhaps my fear will subside long enough so that I can start building a case for these personal experiences.



Carskadon, M. A., & Dement, W. C. (1994). Normal Human Sleep: An Overview. In M. H. Kryger, T. Roth, & W. C. Dement (Eds.), Principles of and practice of sleep medicine. (2nd ed., pp. 3-13). Philadelphia: Saunders.

Cheyne, J. (2003). “Sleep Paralysis and the Structure of Waking-Nightmare Hallucinations”. Dreaming. 13 (3): 163–179.

Jalal, Baland; Romanelli, Andrea; Hinton, Devon E. (2015-12-01). “Cultural Explanations of Sleep Paralysis in Italy: The Pandafeche Attack and Associated Supernatural Beliefs”. Culture, Medicine and Psychiatry. 39 (4): 651–664.

Kahan T.; LaBerge S. (1994). “Lucid dreaming as metacognition: Implications for cognitive science”. Consciousness and Cognition. 3: 246–264.

Ohayon, M.; Zulley, J.; Guilleminault, C.; Smirne, S. (1999). “Prevalence and pathologic associations of sleep paralysis in the general population”. Neurology. 52 (6): 1194–2000.

Sharpless, B.; McCarthy, K.; Chambless, D.; Milrod, B.; Khalsa, S.; Barber, J. (2010). “Isolated sleep paralysis and fearful isolated sleep paralysis in outpatients with panic attacks”. Journal of Clinical Psychology. 66 (12): 1292–1306.

Sleep paralysis. (n.d).

Terrillon, J.; Marques-Bonham, S. (2001). “Does Recurrent Isolated Sleep Paralysis Involve More Than Cognitive Neurosciences?”. Journal of Scientific Exploration. 15: 97–123.


Jung identifies the persona as a mask we all wear, a mask that acts to conceal the true nature of our selves, and to provide a positive social image. In order to know a person all masks must be dropped, and all layers need to be pulled back. Only then, layer by layer, do we come to know the other. This too is true of how we come to know our selves.

Wish Fulfillment & Lucid Dreaming

Our waking life and dream life are dichotomous in nature; they relate to each other in that each realm is reflected in the other. They also tend to influence each other. What we envision in our dreams, or our dream states, could influence our subsequent actions in our waking life, and vice versa. If you find yourself pining after someone in your daily life, you may find images of this individual in your mind when your head hits the pillow. Should you dream up a scenario in which a person in your life is put in a negative light, you may unconsciously treat this person negatively in your waking life.

Images produced in our dream life invariably affect how we experience our waking life, and the same could be said of our waking life affecting our dream life. We begin to develop subconscious ideas about the people in our lives: their attitudes, behaviours, beliefs, and how these relate to us. We may also begin to develop ideas about ourselves, our own motives, attitudes, personality and so forth. These ideas lay just below the surface of our minds in our waking life, and come to light when we dream.

This creates a constant cycle of our waking life feeding our dream life and our dream life feeding our waking life. This cycle continues with each new dream our minds compose while asleep, and with each new day we experience while awake. The times in which our subconscious ideas merge with our conscious ideas is when we are able to recall events in our dreams and seriously ponder about their meaning, validity and the impact they may have on our waking life. At this juncture, we are able to consciously feed into our dream life, potentially influencing what it is we dream while asleep.

Those with particularly creative minds (those who find themselves daydreaming, pursuing abstract thought, painters, musicians, writers and so forth), may be more capable of creating a dream image and seeing it to fruition. The more open-minded one is with dreaming and their individual dream-life, the more realistic it is said person will be able to fabricate dreams, and recall them like memories.

Sigmund Freud wrote extensively on dream-life and dream-work, The Interpretation of Dreams (1900) being his magnum opus. He showed us that dreams act primarily as a form of wish-fulfillment. He determined that by analyzing our dreams, and breaking apart the dream-work by comparing the latent with the manifest content and so forth, we may be able to determine aspects of a persons personality, and thus their neuroses. Dreams help us understand what lies beneath— the unconscious mind. With this greater understanding of the unconscious mind we can then piece together areas of a persons life, determine which areas need focus, and essentially fix what is wrong with a persons mind, and by extension their personality/behaviours/attitudes.

Before Freud happened upon this idea of the interpretation of dreams he studied with Breuer, and their work focused on the use of hypnosis (Studies on Hysteria;1895). These studies in Hysteria and hypnosis helped Freud develop Psychoanalysis (“talk therapy”) as a means to assess and cure patients of their mental ills. Although hypnosis has been denounced as “quackery” and de-valued to the point of it being nearly too ineffectual to even mention, we need to consider the philosophy of hypnosis for arguments sake.

Hypnosis is the practice of inducing a state of consciousness whereby the person loses autonomous thought/ability, and is susceptible to the suggestions of others. Interestingly enough, the word Hypnosis comes from the Greek “hypnos” which translates to sleep, and the English “osis” which is a suffix that denotes a process or condition. This is important to recognize.


Klimt, Gustav. (1913). The Maiden.

Consider the act of hypnotic induction and an individuals heightened suggestibility. Essentially, during hypnosis, a client is influenced by and directed to fulfill the wishes of the hypnotist. Typically upon “waking” from the hypnotic state, the client is unable to recall what they did while hypnotized. If we compare this to our sleep state we find the two are quite similar. Although we dream many times a night (typically each REM period we experience), we may not recall every, or even any, dream that occurs throughout the night. However, our dreams are important in that, as Freud recognized, they fulfill our wishes. Our dream-life is a voluntarily induced hypnotic state. We voluntarily fall to sleep, and our minds wake to project purposeful animated images throughout the night. If we stopped dreaming, our ego-id-superego triad would cease to work, and we, in our waking life, would devolve back to our animalistic tendencies. Dreams act as a catalyst for psychic release. What we are considering here is our ability to induce hypnotic sleep, and control our dream-life in a way that manipulates our wishes into being fulfilled.

Could we truly control our dream content to the point where our waking-life wishes come true in our dream-life? And if this were to happen, to a sufficient degree, would these wishes become worthless in our waking-life?

When considering this we first have to consider day-dreaming. Day-dreaming is a lucid state of dreaming that occurs while awake – and most often we have full control over the content of our daydreams. It is much easier to manipulate our day-dreams, and easier to note any changes that occur. Most people who day-dream do so as a source of entertainment, a way to pass the time, as a creative exercise. But how many truly assess the content of their day-dreams? How many question the content and it’s meaning? If we are able to focus on the content of these dreams and are able to treat them just as we would dreams that occur while we are asleep (documenting them in a dream-journal, noting themes, characters, colours, images and so forth) we would be able to understand the potentially unconscious aspects of these dreams (particularly noting wish-fulfillment). One could argue that day-dreams are practised specifically for wish-fulfillment.

Now, is there any real way we can transmit what we learn from our day-dreams into our sleeping dreams? If we induce sleep in a similar way as inducing hypnosis, perhaps we could be successful. I believe the most promising method for this is to repeatedly imagine what it is you would like to dream about once you fall asleep. This may be as simple as “practising” a day-dream prior to falling to sleep. An alternative method could be to repeatedly envision dream images while entering a trance-like state (similar to meditation).

It would be interesting to see if we are successful in manipulating our dream content to encourage wish-fulfillment (wish-fulfillment being directly related to real-life waking dreams, not particularly in the oedipal/eros/thanatos sense). Then we must ask what effect would this have on our waking-life? How many times would we need to fulfill our wishes in our dream-life before they become null in our waking-life? Would they merely satisfy the wishes for a set period of time?

We can think of this issue from a drive-reduction theory standpoint (Hull, 1935). Drive-reduction theory helps us understand learning and motivation; we experience drives (we are hungry) and when we fulfill these needs (by consuming food) we reduce the drive. Humans are then in a constant state of drive-reduction. This theory can be applied to our dreams and wish-fulfillment in that our wishes act as our drives (motivations) and, should our dreams successfully fulfill those wishes, they act by reducing our drives (wishes). In this sense will our wishes ever truly be fulfilled merely through our dreams? Would our drive be reduced in waking life if our drive has technically been accommodated for in our dream-life?

The rate of success of our wishes being fulfilled also depends on our individual perception of the fulfillment (does the dream suffice, is the success experienced in our dream-life potent enough to actually negate the need for the wish in waking life)? It is also important to think of our dream-life and waking-life as being the same (in that they are both planes of existence that we experience) yet different in that they are altered planes of existence. What happens in our dream-life has the potential to be illegal or immoral in our waking-life, our dream-life does not follow the same societal rules as our waking-life. Which is the real plane of existence? Is our waking-life actually our dream-life and vice-versa? Are both planes so closely related that it would suffice for a dream or a wish to be fulfilled in one or the other? If we fulfill a wish in our dream-life and perceive it as the height of our success, would the only real difference be that we do not experience a tangible fulfillment of the wish (in waking-life)?

If our planes of existence co-exist and transmit information one to the next, perhaps it is easier to say we are weaving in and out of the planes, and what happens in our dream-life does reflect in and have an impact on our waking-life.

Consider a man whose sole interest is gaining great success and recognition as a musician. If he were to achieve this success in his dream-life, would he find himself less motivated to achieve it in waking life? When we experience something like sexual arousal, we seek a release (orgasm) and when we achieve this very tangible experience of orgasm, we cease our search for sexual release for some time (until we again build up the urge to experience the sexual release). The same can be said for wishes. Wishes are erotic and romantic, they require close and repeated attention in order to be fulfilled –they need built up energies to be achieved. When we experience a dream (day-dream or sleeping dream) focused on the fulfillment of our waking-life wishes, we are experiencing a psychic release akin to our bodily orgasm. This catharsis which we experience psychically is a very real component of wish fulfillment, when our wishes are fulfilled (to a degree) in our psyche or when we perceive them to be fulfilled, we experience a reduction in our drive to fulfill the wish in waking-life because it has, at least to some extent, been “fulfilled”.

What can we say of those who find their energies and motivations increased after such a dream? Perhaps the dream acts as a facilitator, enlightening the dreamer of what it would be like to fulfill the wish. Recall our example of the man who wishes to be a musician. Perhaps his dream acts as a means to fulfill certain aspects of his wish, to contribute to his self-esteem so that he may venture out and learn an instrument and start the rigorous journey of becoming a musician. Or the dream encourages him to be as happy and fulfilled as his dream-self, which motivates him in his waking life to persevere and become as successful as his dream image.

If our dream and waking planes are as interconnected as we postulate, perhaps the wish-fulfillment that occurs in our dreams is merely a contribution to the overall fulfillment of the wish. A motivator and facilitator.


Breuer, J., Freud, S. (1955). Studies on Hysteria. (James Strachey, Trans.). Hogarth Press, London. (Original work published 1895).

Hull, C. L. (1935). The Conflicting Psychologies of Learning: A Way Out. Psychological Review, 42, 491-516.

Hypnosis (n.d). In Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Retrieved from

Freud, Sigmund. (1954). The Interpretation of Dreams. (James Strachey, Trans.). London. (Original work published 1900).

Writing hiatus

img_6476Sadly, as I am sure many of you have noticed,  I have not been writing. Not only have I not been writing, I have not been publishing. For the past few months I have been focusing my energies mostly on work, relationships and preparing to move.

I will be returning to Ottawa at the end of this month, and will hopefully find myself with more time and motivation.

Writing is not something I ever expected myself to be so passionate about, and I have had the opportunity to test my own limits and intellect since the genesis of my writing career. This also means I am not particularly familiar with “writer’s block.” True, I have dabbled in writing before, but never to such a passionate and energetic degree as once I began writing about Psychology/Philosophy.

I’ve found you can’t rush writing, and you can’t force inspiration or motivation. If I am unable to produce anything of worth there’s no sense in producing anything at all.

I apologize for this long, drawn out dry spell, and will leave you with a haiku that exemplifies how I have been feeling as of late:

The purple hue of

the wisteria sings to

me as I fall to sleep…



Creating Art: A four-week long self-study

Art is an important way to express oneself and plays a role in releasing our emotions. I spent four weeks conducting a self-study where I used art as a means of self-expression. There are three steps to this process all of which were documented weekly (each time I expressed myself artistically, the quantity of which varied from week to week. For brevity’s sake, only one instance from each week has been documented and analyzed here).

The steps are as follows:

1.) Assess and record my emotional state

2.) Paint/draw

3.) Assess and record my emotional state (post-expression).

Each of these steps was followed for each artistic experience. One final step is needed to complete this self-study and that is an analysis of each individual painting, each painting experience, and the relationship between the two; each painting chosen from the four weeks will be analyzed here.

The aim of this study is to assess the validity of art as catharsis and to understand aspects of myself that would otherwise go unnoticed.

To assess my emotional state I used the PANAS-X  (Watson,D., & Clark, L, A., 1994)[1] a psychometric tool used to measure positive and negative affect states, as well as four basic negative emotions, three basic positive emotions, and four more complex affective states. Each score has been assessed and those that are of importance for each week will be displayed (pre and post-expression) alongside an analysis of the individual piece.

The PANAS-X uses a nominal 1-5 scale to rate emotions and affect, 1 for very slightly or not at all to 5 for extremely.

Week 1: “Fragmented”


Fragmented, self-portrait

In the week leading up to this painting I was feeling sad, lonely, and blaming myself for my feelings of despondency/loneliness. I set the environment by listening to music that reminded me of home –this generated strong feelings of sadness. I did not plan what I was going to paint; I let my creativity flow naturally influenced by my mood and the music.

“Fragmented” is a self-portrait representing how I viewed myself. I am faceless because I no longer knew who I was and I was unable to identify qualifying features of myself (how do I identify myself in relation to a city and culture I have never experienced before, and do not feel at home in). Further I have no eyes because I Was unable to determine what my future looked like, or where I was headed in this city – I am essentially blind, emotionally and mentally. I felt disconnected from myself, and a big part of that feeling stems from the relationships and connections I left behind.

The image is simple yet bold, clearly expressing my inability to identify with the city I am in, or the people in that city. Sandra Turner outlines this feeling in “Encountering what is possible – the impact of role development in facing existential crisis”: “When anything fundamentally threatens our way of being in life, the manner in which we each know ourselves, this becomes an existential threat. This threat potentially brings a loss of a way of life often coupled with a loss of the community to which we have made a commitment. We can no longer act as we normally would and this brings a loss of confidence […]” (Turner, 2002). Although Turner is referring to psychodrama and roles within psychodrama, this sentiment can be applied to my situation.

The act of creation for this piece generated a wealth of emotions – I began crying throughout the process, and found myself still crying post-painting. Staring back at the image of a faceless self I realized how fragmented I truly felt.

After creating this piece I did experience a significant emotional breakthrough, which made it easier to talk about my feelings with my significant other. I was able to understand where I was emotionally and why I was feeling this way. This helped me assess my current life situation and discuss changes I could make in my life to make my transition easier. It opened the pathway of communication about our hometown and it was comforting to know that I was not the only one experiencing these emotions. I had let my emotions completely take over my life, and being able to express how I was feeling allowed me to clear my head, see the bigger picture, and make necessary changes. Not only did the process act as a cathartic experience for me it facilitated continued emotional outlets – by communicating with friends, family and my significant other – I was able to deal more effectively with my emotions, and be more readily able to identify what I was feeling in the moment.

As we can see from the graph below a significant number of negative affects and emotions represented on the PANAS-X were typically experienced at a 1, 2 or 3, more often than at a higher rate. However, those affects that were most strongly felt were more interrelated than others recorded. An overwhelming amount of emotions were centered on dissatisfaction, anger, or blame towards the self, which influenced other significant emotions such as feelings of sadness, loneliness and being downhearted.

It would only make sense that during a time where I was concerned with feeling disconnected and estranged from my self, my friends, and my hometown, I would be experiencing feelings of sadness, dissatisfaction and loneliness more so than I would be experiencing feelings of fear, hostility and guilt. As we can see I did experience these feelings, just to a much lesser extent than the other more salient emotions outlined.


In comparison to the positive affect scale, I was feeling significantly more negative emotions. If we look at the graph below demonstrating the positive affect, we can see that for the most part my rates were ranging between 1-2, meaning there was no significant differentiation between positive affect states, but there was a significant difference between my negative and positive affect states. The negative emotions I had been feeling did have an effect on my positive emotions influencing the likelihood that I would experience them. For instance, confident, enthusiastic, and happy were all rated at a 1, which is uncharacteristic of my average affect. This indicates that my negative affect significantly influenced not only how I experienced negative emotions, but also how I experienced positive emotions. Since the strength of my negative affect was so strong this actually influenced the likelihood that I would experience positive emotions.


An important part of this experiment was measuring my affect pre and post expression and comparing the scores. Taking a look at my scores post expression I still ranked experiencing negative emotions and affect more so than positive ones, but to a slightly lower degree. Further, my positive affect increased by 1 point on affects and emotions that had been rated higher in the pre-expression assessment. However, my affect did not change for those scores that were rated lower, possibly because my negative affect was still felt relatively strongly, and possibly because feelings of joyfulness, and cheerfulness were not strongly felt prior to painting. This suggests that the artistic experience did help me emotionally, but it is hard to determine whether it was catharsis or my feelings towards the resulted image that influenced this change in affect.


These changes suggests that artistic expression does impact affect – it helped me express what I was feeling in a concrete, physical way, which helped facilitate conversation about my feelings.

The change in my negative affect can be explained by my newfound understanding of my emotional and mental state – upon completion of the piece I was able to see the whole picture. After completing the image the reason my negative mood states decreased, in particular feelings of loneliness and downheartedness, is because I was able to put into words how I was feeling and I was able to share these feelings with a confidant. As mentioned before, the painting represents a physical manifestation of my emotions in regards to my self, my relationships and my hometown. As we can see in the graph below, similar to the positive affect scale, not all affects were affected or altered.


It is of particular interest to note the changes in my feelings of anger, sadness and loneliness – because they all interact with and affect each other. Since the painting experience acted partially as catharsis I was able to express some of these feelings of loneliness and sadness in my image. Once these feelings were expressed I was able to understand them better and the source of these feelings. This of course made it easier to communicate my feelings, which further acted as catharsis.

Limitations to this process include that I cannot determine whether my emotional expression was better facilitated through the music, or if my resulting emotional state was due to painting, listening to music, or a combination of both. Regardless, this process made me introspect a great deal, focusing mainly on my negative emotional state in the previous weeks leading up to the experiment. My emotional state was significantly more potent directly prior to the expression (within 2 hours), but averaged the week prior.

 Week 2:”Floating”



The process for this particular piece was in contrast to “fragmented” – I did not need music to motivate my emotions or memories, in fact, the expression was very much a result of my environment and current life events. By environment I am referring specifically to my apartment and the influence the rooms and noises outdoors had on my emotional state. The time of day, the activities I was doing at the time (drinking coffee, writing), and the sound of the street mixed with the birds reminded me of home. This made me feel very much at ease, relaxed, and tranquil, and played a significant role in my overall affect. Of course, because I was thinking of home and feeling more connected to my home I undoubtedly experienced negative emotions as well as positive ones – the difference is that the negative emotions were felt less strongly than the positive emotions. For instance, while painting I was focused more on my positive feelings: feeling proud, happy, inspired and so on, than I was on my negative emotions.

As we can see in the graph below the negative affect scale averaged a score of 1, whereas the positive affect scale averaged a 3, which translates to “moderately felt” on the PANAS-X affect scale. It is interesting to note that even though I felt positive emotions and averaged a much higher positive affect than negative, I still felt negative emotions, and these surely impacted the expression of my positive affects.

If I were to have not felt negative emotions to the minor degree that I did (for instance, while I was rating my inspiration, pride and happiness around a 3 or 4, I was simultaneously rating my feelings of loneliness and downheartedness as a 2), my positive affect would not have been affected so greatly. That is, had I rated my loneliness and downheartedness at a 1, my feelings of inspiration, happiness and so forth perhaps would have been rated between a 4-5, making my positive affect much stronger than my negative affect.



What we should also consider is how my general positive affect further influenced other aspects of my emotionality. For instance, my ratings on the self-assurance dimension were quite strong as well in comparison to the week prior, where my scores of confidence, pride and strength were around a 1. The average score for the self-assurance dimension was 2.83 (rounded up to a 3), indicating that my positive affect had a significant influence on other dimensions of positive emotions, particularly aspects of self-assurance (my feelings of inspiration and happiness influenced my feelings of confidence and strength of ability).


When we look at the image “floating” itself, we can see each of these positive emotions reflected. The reason this image was so easy for me to paint was because I was feeling very expressive physically, and so it was easy for me to direct that passion and energy into creating this piece. The image displays myself floating with balloons – showing a lack of gravity.

This demonstrates how I did not feel held back by anything at the time – particularly my emotions. This image represents a sense of free-floating lack of attachment – to my surroundings and to any given situation. I felt so strongly connected with my home that I was spiritually, or emotionally transported to a time and a physiological as well as psychological state reminiscent of those experienced on a similarly positive day in Ottawa. These feelings of floating were also influenced by the fact that I had received positive news, which essentially made me feel “on top of the world”, which is reflected in the image.

After the painting was complete I completed the post PANAS-X and found that the majority of my ratings did not change much from the pre PANAS-X. This can be explained by the fact that I was not experiencing negative emotions or mood states that needed to be altered or shared. Typically, when we experience negative emotions we want to return to baseline – which are neutral or positive mood states. When we experience positive mood states however, we have already achieved what we are aiming for. It makes sense then that my affect did not change much after completing the image.

The only difference between scores was found in the negative affect but was only reflected in the ratings of upset, downhearted and sad – which only changed by 1 point. The reason for these changes can be explained through reflection upon the piece. Although I was still generally in a positive mood state and experiencing feelings of pride and confidence, I was still feeling disconnected from my home and a lack of connection to my current environment. Therefore, upon reflection, I was able to ruminate more on my feelings of sadness and downheartedness in regards to missing my hometown which, generated these feelings even more.

Week 3: “Caught Between Two Worlds”


Caught between two worlds

The process for this image was similar to that of floating in that it was very much a product of my emotions motivated by my current emotional state. What I had discovered at this point in my experiment is that the majority of my emotions have been centered on and influenced by my feelings towards my hometown and my strong desire to return home. I have discovered a lack of rootedness, which as Fromm declares, is one of our eight fundamental human needs (Fromm, 1941).

The image presents myself caught between Ottawa on the right, and Halifax on the left. It evokes a strangely calm and serene acceptance, an acceptance that no matter whether I remain in Halifax or return home, I will invariably be caught between both worlds. Should I return home, I would be more content because my roots will surround me, I will be comfortable, and fall back into my regularly occurring routines. However, should I return home, I will also be left with ruminating feelings of loneliness and sadness because the majority of my family will be in Halifax while I am in Ottawa –defeating the purpose of returning home. Should I remain in Halifax I will maintain the feelings of emotional stagnation but remain close with my family – which is incredibly important. My unresolved feelings towards Ottawa will keep me from growing roots in this new city.

Ottawa is painted in much more lively colours than Halifax is – the reason for this being I am much more attached to and drawn to Ottawa than I am to Halifax. The majority of my experience while in Halifax has been very emotional, leaving me feeling sad, lonely and detached much of the time. I am also quite fearful of water and being on boats, which plays into this image. I feel much more grounded in Ottawa hence the choice of parliament to represent Ottawa, whereas I feel very scared, and unsure of my surroundings while in Halifax, hence the use of water as the defining image.

All of the colours in this image work together to demonstrate my current emotional state. Although the colours draw a clear line between right and left dichotomies, and which emotion is felt for which city they are still relatively muted expressions of my feelings. This demonstrates the calmness of my sadness, loneliness and yearning. At this point in time I had been experiencing these and similar emotions and had quite some time to ruminate on them. In fact, the emotions that I had been feeling up to this point in time had essentially petered out. I am still feeling the same emotions just at slightly less intense levels. For instance, the emotions related to Ottawa and yearning to return home is still felt, and the majority of the emotions that I rate more strongly have been expressed each week. If we take a look at the graphs below we can see that I have experienced a mixture between negative and positive affect with a tendency more towards sadness than anything else.

I believe at this point my feelings of positive affect have strengthened, possibly because I have come to terms with my negative feelings. My negative and positive affects will undoubtedly continue to influence each other, but my feelings have calmed to a certain degree.


As I mentioned the majority of my high ratings were found on the sadness emotion scale, similar to past weeks. Although I was still experiencing feelings of sadness and loneliness I was simultaneously rating my positive affects at more median rates, while my sadness emotions were rated at more median rates as well.


This is the most interesting week so far in regards to my affect. I experienced relatively muted and mixed emotions. I experienced sadness while simultaneously feeling inspired or interested. Which leads me to believe that my emotions do generate creativity, and that by directing them into a productive outlet this facilitates further understanding of said emotions and affect states.

This piece facilitated communication between my partner and myself and I felt even more secure upon completing this image. The security I felt was linked to my desire to return home and the final decision I had made. I have come to realize that environment influences my contentedness, and that I should not be living to fulfill other peoples dreams or wishes.

What I learned throughout this experiment is that my feelings are stemming mainly from one source and are generated through thoughts attached to this source, environments that remind me of my friends, memories attached to Ottawa, and my past experiences. I discovered that I am much more rooted to Ottawa than I had previously thought.

My post expression scores on both negative and positive affect scales did not change significantly enough to graph the results and present them here. I believe that this lack of change is due to the fact that my affect was already so muted; expression in this case did not alter my emotional state much.


Week 4:“My Creative Mind”


My Creative Mind

In the final week of my self-analysis I found that my emotional state from the previous weeks had muted significantly. In the first week of the experiment I was feeling very lonely and downhearted, in fact, I was taking these feelings out on myself and I was blaming myself for feeling such a way. I had led myself to believe that I was feeling negatively towards myself because of internal aspects instead of external aspects.

In this week the majority of my art works were expressive of my own creativity, and very much an appreciation for the evolution of my artwork. Based on the form and colour, you can see a direct change in emotionality. This image in particular is expressive of my creativity and I employed a limited number of colours. The colours that I did use were expressive of calm, contentedness and serenity. The colours elicit a feeling of general calm that has come over me throughout the four weeks. This calm is in direct relation to the resolution of my feelings of loneliness and disconnectedness felt in the first two weeks.

My brain is painted in similar colours as the surrounding image, representing a calm felt at the cerebral level— these feelings of calm emanate throughout my environment but are also felt within myself.

As we can see below my negative and positive affect scales are similar to the preceding week. I was still feeling sadness, downheartedness and loneliness but these were muted in nature. I believe that these feelings were more muted in comparison to previous weeks because I had an opportunity to deal with the underlying issues.


As we can see my general negative affect was rated quite low with the majority of scores being rated as a 1, and the remaining scores being a 2. When these scores are compared to my positive affect we can see that I was experiencing positive affect more so than negative affect and at greater intensities. Each of the positive affects were closely related to each other – that is, my feelings of inspiration were correlated with my feelings of determination, enthusiasm and strength. These scores had changed from the first two weeks because I dealt with my negative affect throughout the subsequent weeks.


For this week I felt it was important to show both my sadness emotion scale scores and my serenity emotion scale scores. My sadness emotions were rated lower than the previous weeks, but I was still experiencing feelings of downheartedness and feeling blue, which I believe is due mainly to my missing my friends and hometown.


In comparison my serenity emotion scale indicates that although I was still experiencing underlying sadness emotions, my serenity emotions were quite high. My feeling of relaxed in particular is important to note. I believe that this emotion was rated so high because although I was still dealing with negative emotions I have come to terms with why I was feeling these emotions, and I developed a plan to alleviate these feelings.

At the beginning of this experiment I was overwhelmed with my emotions and had a difficult time verbalizing the issues I was facing. Now, at the outset of this experiment I have a better understanding of my emotions and their source. This helped alleviate some stress and anxiety.

With the increase in my general positive affect and the decrease in my general negative affect I have been able to mediate my emotions, and have become much more content. Of course, just as the positive affect scale, the emotions rated on the serenity emotion scale are very much interrelated, which could explain why my scores did not differ much. Since my feelings of relaxation were so high so too were my feelings of being at ease and calm. Again, these feelings and the positive affects are interrelated, which could explain why the scores on both scales were rather similar.


The post expression scores did not differ significantly enough to display here. Although I was feeling lower levels of downheartedness and upset, these changes were not even significant enough to indicate nominally (the changes would have been between .25-.5, and the PANAS-X uses a 1-5 nominal scale). Therefore, although there was a slight difference between scores they were not significant enough to mention.


There is a positive relationship between my use of art as a form of expression and my affect states. Over the four weeks I came to understand my emotional state on a deeper level, and came to understand the root of the majority of my emotions/affects. In assessing my affect state both before and after artistic expression I was able to assess the potential immediate impact the expression had on my mood state. I found that for the most part my mood state did not improve significantly directly after the artistic process, rather that the act of artistic expression acted more as a facilitator for further communication and analysis. Post expression was more oriented towards analyzing the underlying emotion states and how to deal effectively with them.

This four week process was interesting for me to notice the changes in my affect and emotion states, particularly because I found myself dealing primarily with one main issue that had been effecting my mood state for quite some time. I was able to focus on this issue and explore different ways to deal with it, which led to improvements in my overall emotionality.

As an additional effect, I found that painting actually became a source of improved mood and I began seeking it out and looking forward to the opportunity to paint throughout the day. Therefore, there were three main effects: improved mood, catharsis and communication, all of which were interrelated.


This is a self-study and therefore lacks external validity. Further, there may be confounding variables (the use of music), which may interfere with our assessment of the usefulness of artistic expression in facilitating catharsis and dealing with emotions. As a final note, this study was based entirely on introspection, which is not easily tested and not entirely reliable.



Fromm, E. (1941). Escape from Freedom. New York, NY: Farrar & Rinehart.

Turner, S. (2002). Encountering what is possible –The Impact of Role Development in Facing Existential Crisis. ANZPA journal, vol. 11, 31-37.

Watson, D., & Clark, L, A., (1994). The PANAS-X: Manual for the Positive and Negative Affect Schedule. Retrieved from

[1] Permissions to use the PANAS-X were granted me by David Watson. The PANAS-X is copyright David Watson and Lee Anna Clark (1994) at the University of Iowa.