Functional Freeze Quotes

In response to threat and injury, animals, including humans, execute biologically based, non-conscious action patterns that prepare them to meet the threat and defend themselves. The very structure of trauma, including activation, dissociation and freezing are based on the evolution of survival behaviors. When threatened or injured, all animals draw from a "library" of possible responses. We orient, dodge, duck, stiffen, brace, retract, fight, flee, freeze, collapse, etc. All of these coordinated responses are somatically based- they are things that the body does to protect and defend itself. It is when these orienting and defending responses are overwhelmed that we see trauma. The bodies of traumatized people portray "snapshots" of their unsuccessful attempts to defend themselves in the face of threat and injury. Trauma is a highly activated incomplete biological response to threat, frozen in time. For example, when we prepare to fight or to flee, muscles throughout our entire body are tensed in specific patterns of high energy readiness. When we are unable to complete the appropriate actions, we fail to discharge the tremendous energy generated by our survival preparations. This energy becomes fixed in specific patterns of neuromuscular readiness. The person then stays in a state of acute and then chronic arousal and dysfunction in the central nervous system. Traumatized people are not suffering from a disease in the normal sense of the word- they have become stuck in an aroused state. It is difficult if not impossible to function normally under these circumstances.

There was just something about other people’s expectations that made her freeze in place, unable to function.

Exposure to nature - cold, heat, water - is the most dehumanizing way to die. Violence is passionate and real - the final moments as you struggle for your life, firing a gun or wrestling a mugger or screaming for help, your heart pumps loudly and your body tingles with energy; you are alert and awake and, for that brief moment, more alive and human than you've ever been before. Not so with nature. At the mercy of the elements the opposite happens: your body slows, your thoughts grow sluggish, and you realize just how mechanical you really are. Your body is a machine, full of tubes and valves and motors, of electrical signals and hydraulic pumps, and they function properly only within a certain range of conditions. As temperatures drop, your machine breaks down. Cells begin to freeze and shatter; muscles use more energy to do less; blood flows too slowly, and to the wrong places. Your sense fade, your core temperature plummets, and your brain fires random signals that your body is too weak to interpret or follow. In that stat you are no longer a human being, you are a malfunction - an engine without oil, grinding itself to pieces in its last futile effort to complete its last meaningless task.

For example, if you are fearful your mind will freeze, motion will be stopped and you will be defeated. If your mind is fixed on victory or defeating your opponent, you will be unable to function automatically.

I look at it this way: the instinctive response to danger—the stress response—consists of fight, flight, or freeze. These three strategies help us survive physically, but when they’re applied to our mental and emotional functioning, we get into trouble. When there’s no enemy to defend against, we turn on ourselves. “Fight” becomes self-criticism, “flight” becomes self-isolation, and “freeze” becomes self-absorption, getting locked into our own thoughts.

But in the highest alarm—a life-and-death situation—the fight/flight/freeze system shuts down your rational mind. This prevents you from thinking too much. Why? Because thinking would delay quick action to get you out of harm’s way. The problem with post-traumatic stress is that it doesn’t take much to kick your fight/flight/freeze system into alarm mode. And false alarms are common. The higher the level of false alarm, the less your rational mind is able to do its job. This makes it difficult to function well in your life after trauma. For

Nouns (...) are like linguistic iceboxes that freeze a flowing, liquid reality. In using nouns to designate and delimit all the aspects of the world, it is all too easy to confuse a symbol for the reality that it represents. This is the second great philosophical mistake, which the Fravashi refer to as the ‘little maya’. When speaking Moksha, it is difficult to make this mistake, for the function of nouns has largely been replaced by process verbs, as well as by the temporary and flexible juxtaposition of adjectives. For instance, the expression for star might be ‘bright–white–continuing’, while one might think of a supernova as ‘radiant–splendid–dying’. There is no rule specifying the choice or number of these adjectives; indeed, one can form incredibly long and precise (and beautiful) concepts by skilful agglutination, sticking adjectives one after another like beads on a string.

So which theory did Lagos believe in? The relativist or the universalist?" "He did not seem to think there was much of a difference. In the end, they are both somewhat mystical. Lagos believed that both schools of thought had essentially arrived at the same place by different lines of reasoning." "But it seems to me there is a key difference," Hiro says. "The universalists think that we are determined by the prepatterned structure of our brains -- the pathways in the cortex. The relativists don't believe that we have any limits." "Lagos modified the strict Chomskyan theory by supposing that learning a language is like blowing code into PROMs -- an analogy that I cannot interpret." "The analogy is clear. PROMs are Programmable Read-Only Memory chips," Hiro says. "When they come from the factory, they have no content. Once and only once, you can place information into those chips and then freeze it -- the information, the software, becomes frozen into the chip -- it transmutes into hardware. After you have blown the code into the PROMs, you can read it out, but you can't write to them anymore. So Lagos was trying to say that the newborn human brain has no structure -- as the relativists would have it -- and that as the child learns a language, the developing brain structures itself accordingly, the language gets 'blown into the hardware and becomes a permanent part of the brain's deep structure -- as the universalists would have it." "Yes. This was his interpretation." "Okay. So when he talked about Enki being a real person with magical powers, what he meant was that Enki somehow understood the connection between language and the brain, knew how to manipulate it. The same way that a hacker, knowing the secrets of a computer system, can write code to control it -- digital namshubs?" "Lagos said that Enki had the ability to ascend into the universe of language and see it before his eyes. Much as humans go into the Metaverse. That gave him power to create nam-shubs. And nam-shubs had the power to alter the functioning of the brain and of the body." "Why isn't anyone doing this kind of thing nowadays? Why aren't there any namshubs in English?" "Not all languages are the same, as Steiner points out. Some languages are better at metaphor than others. Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, and Chinese lend themselves to word play and have achieved a lasting grip on reality: Palestine had Qiryat Sefer, the 'City of the Letter,' and Syria had Byblos, the 'Town of the Book.' By contrast other civilizations seem 'speechless' or at least, as may have been the case in Egypt, not entirely cognizant of the creative and transformational powers of language. Lagos believed that Sumerian was an extraordinarily powerful language -- at least it was in Sumer five thousand years ago." "A language that lent itself to Enki's neurolinguistic hacking." "Early linguists, as well as the Kabbalists, believed in a fictional language called the tongue of Eden, the language of Adam. It enabled all men to understand each other, to communicate without misunderstanding. It was the language of the Logos, the moment when God created the world by speaking a word. In the tongue of Eden, naming a thing was the same as creating it. To quote Steiner again, 'Our speech interposes itself between apprehension and truth like a dusty pane or warped mirror. The tongue of Eden was like a flawless glass; a light of total understanding streamed through it. Thus Babel was a second Fall.' And Isaac the Blind, an early Kabbalist, said that, to quote Gershom Scholem's translation, 'The speech of men is connected with divine speech and all language whether heavenly or human derives from one source: the Divine Name.' The practical Kabbalists, the sorcerers, bore the title Ba'al Shem, meaning 'master of the divine name.'" "The machine language of the world," Hiro says.

Also bearing witness to the unbearable nature of the vulnerability experienced by peer-oriented kids is the preponderance of vulnerability-quelling drugs. Peer-oriented kids will do anything to avoid the human feelings of aloneness, suffering, and pain, and to escape feeling hurt, exposed, alarmed, insecure, inadequate, or self-conscious. The older and more peer-oriented the kids, the more drugs seem to be an inherent part of their lifestyle. Peer orientation creates an appetite for anything that would reduce vulnerability. Drugs are emotional painkillers. And, in another way, they help young people escape from the benumbed state imposed by their defensive emotional detachment. With the shutdown of emotions come boredom and alienation. Drugs provide an artificial stimulation to the emotionally jaded. They heighten sensation and provide a false sense of engagement without incurring the risks of genuine openness. In fact, the same drug can play seemingly opposite functions in an individual. Alcohol and marijuana, for example, can numb or, on the other hand, free the brain and mind from social inhibitions. Other drugs are stimulants — cocaine, amphetamines, and ecstasy; the very name of the latter speaks volumes about exactly what is missing in the psychic life of our emotionally incapacitated young people. The psychological function served by these drugs is often overlooked by well-meaning adults who perceive the problem to be coming from outside the individual, through peer pressure and youth culture mores. It is not just a matter of getting our children to say no. The problem lies much deeper. As long as we do not confront and reverse peer orientation among our children, we are creating an insatiable appetite for these drugs. The affinity for vulnerability-reducing drugs originates from deep within the defended soul. Our children's emotional safety can come only from us: then they will not be driven to escape their feelings and to rely on the anesthetic effects of drugs. Their need to feel alive and excited can and should arise from within themselves, from their own innately limitless capacity to be engaged with the universe. This brings us back to the essential hierarchical nature of attachment. The more the child needs attachment to function, the more important it is that she attaches to those responsible for her. Only then can the vulnerability that is inherent in emotional attachment be endured. Children don't need friends, they need parents, grandparents, adults who will assume the responsibility to hold on to them. The more children are attached to caring adults, the more they are able to interact with peers without being overwhelmed by the vulnerability involved. The less peers matter, the more the vulnerability of peer relationships can be endured. It is exactly those children who don't need friends who are more capable of having friends without losing their ability to feel deeply and vulnerably. But why should we want our children to remain open to their own vulnerability? What is amiss when detachment freezes the emotions in order to protect the child?

Can a reasonable man ever truly question the nobility of the heat engine he calls his body? What option does he have but to heap praise on his form, to self-adore, to admire, and to hold it up as the greatest statement of beauty in a beautiful garden? What, though, is to be admired in such a frighteningly fragile machine; a perilously needy contraption laced with kilometres of liquid and electrical conduits prone to leaks, rot, clogs, and short-circuits? What is there to be proud of in a machine that has an eight hour battery life and is predetermined to spend half its existence in a defenceless, catatonic coma? What is to be revered in a mechanism let loose in a sealed off room where almost everything—including its single source of light and warmth—makes it sick, but whose immune system functions by late entry crisis-response imitation? Where is the awe in a contrivance that freezes and dies if placed a little over here, or overheats and dies if placed a little over there? Where is the wonder in an instrument that is crushed to a pulp if dropped a little down there, or boiled away to nothing if lifted a little up there? Where is the marvel in an appliance where three-quarters of the planet’s surface will drown it, and three-quarters of the atmosphere will asphyxiate it? What is there to be cherished in a machine born innately greedy and so utterly useless that it has to wait three years for its neural networks to hook-up and come online before it even begins to get a hint of who or even what it is, and only then can it start to relearn absolutely everything its forebears had already bothered to learn? Where is the artistry in a thinking engine whose sweetest fuel can only be embezzled from other thinking engines?

When your computer gets all buggered up and freezes on you, you don’t throw it away (even though you may want to), you hit Ctrl+Alt+Delete to stop the function(s) that is making your operating system freak out. Our God not only allows for Ctrl+Alt+Delete in our lives, He is the author of it. When we overload our heart, soul, mind, bodies, and relationships and our lives freeze up on us and nothing is working as it should anymore, God is there, saying, “Hit Ctrl+Alt+Delete. Let’s reset and go forward living life the way I created it to be lived.

At the mercy of the elements the opposite happens: your body slows, your thoughts grow sluggish, and you realize just how mechanical you really are. Your body is a machine, full of tubes and valves and motors, of electrical signals and hydraulic pumps, and they function properly only within a certain range of conditions. As temperatures drop, your machine breaks down. Cells begin to freeze and shatter; muscles use more energy to do less; blood flows too slowly, and to the wrong places. Your senses fade, your core temperature plummets, and your brain fires random signals that your body is too weak to interpret or follow. In that state you are no longer a human being, you are a malfunction—an engine without oil, grinding itself to pieces in its last futile effort to complete its last meaningless task.

of the fight/flight/freeze stress response system. The sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems make up the autonomic nervous system. “Autonomic” means it doesn’t need any direction from us. The sympathetic nervous system sends stress hormones to activate fight or flight, like turning the dimmer switch all the way to “on.” The fight-or-flight responses are meant to occur quickly and strongly to meet immediate danger. Unlike the sympathetic nervous system, the parasympathetic nervous system slows things down. It turns the dimmer switch to “off” to activate the freeze part of the stress response (Porges 2011). It is also responsible for the rest/repair/restore functions that help to return your body, heart, and mind to balance once the threat is gone. The sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems usually work well together. But with post-traumatic stress, fight/flight/

A strange phenomenon occurs when the body is in peril, when the brain continues to function as other parts freeze up or fail. A person’s life flashes before her eyes. The events don’t always play back chronologically, but they are the more emotional moments experienced during a lifetime. These memory markers play in review in full color and explicit detail, and they elicit every emotion that was previously experienced in real time. It feels like an eternity when it happens but, in actuality, is over and done with in a matter of seconds. On

A common misperception, one promulgated over the years by bad science fiction, was that a human body when subjected to a vacuum, would either explode or instantly freeze. Neither was true. In reality, the body could continue to function in a vacuum for several minutes, skin holding in all the organs, heart still pumping blood to the extremities. The immediate problem for someone cast into the void was lack of oxygen. And it would do no good to hold one’s breath. In fact, due to the inevitability of gas expanding in a vacuum, that would be the worst thing one could do, as it would likely lead to a rupture of the lungs.

Handout The Impact of Stress on Learning … When we experience strong emotions (fear, extreme sadness, anger, embarrassment, etc.), our bodies release the hormone Cortisol, known as the “stress hormone.” This activates the rapid, reflexive responses of the amygdala (located at the back part of the brain), and the thinking part of our brain (the prefrontal cortex where the executive function are), shuts down. Reasoning and decision-making become challenging, we have a hard time considering other people’s perspectives, and we have a harder time accessing our memory. The brain goes into survival mode, which is often experienced as fight, flight, or freeze. Without calm: No learning can take place No problems can be solved Empathy for others becomes difficult

He was waiting in the reception hall, a lone figure lost in the vast, vaulted chamber. The Herrani representative was an elderly man whose thin frame leaned heavily on his walking stick. Kestrel faltered. She approached more slowly. She couldn’t help looking over his shoulder for Arin. He wasn’t there. “I thought the barbarian days of the Valorian empire were over,” the man said dryly. “What?” said Kestrel. “You’re barefoot.” She glanced down, and only then realized that her feet were freezing, that she’d forgotten even the existence of shoes when she’d left her dressing chamber and hurtled through the palace for all to see, for the Valorian guards flanking the reception hall to see right now. “Who are you?” Kestrel demanded. “Tensen, the Herrani minister of agriculture.” “And the governor? Where is he?” “Not coming.” “Not…” Kestrel pressed a palm to her forehead. “The emperor issued a summons. To a state function. And Arin declines?” Her anger was folding onto itself in as many layers as her ball gown--anger at Arin, at the way he was committing political suicide. Anger at herself. At her own bare feet and how they were proof--pure, naked, cold proof--of her hope, her very need to see someone that she was supposed to forget. Arin had not come. “I get that disappointed look all the time,” Tensen said in a cheerful tone. “No one is ever excited to meet the minister of agriculture.

It is important that we do not attempt to freeze Cockburn’s spirituality at a particular point in time or from a particular “theological” perspective. In a 1986 interview for Nerve magazine, Cockburn said, “The fact that I’m a Christian has an obvious effect on how I see the world, which in turn shows up in the songs.”[30] But both the association of the word Christian with the religious Right in America and Cockburn’s own deep distaste for all “dogma” that ends up functioning as a violent weapon with which to attack others have led him to “rely on oblique imagery to get at the real things.”[31] While he has a profound and deep sense of “walking with God,” he also knows that such language is almost totally inexplicable to most people, precisely because such pious talk has been co-opted and defiled by a religious fundamentalism that has been at the heart of so much evil in the last few decades. Yet, Cockburn can’t help himself. He has a decidedly Christian-shaped experience of God that is caught in mere “glimpses.” Those glimpses, however, “are strong and tantalizing.” And so he confesses that the “sense of being in the company of God is continually growing. And I like it!”[32]

Solutions to life-or-death problems faced by our ancient ancestors while swimming in dark oceans, hiding from dinosaurs, or fighting with other Stone Age bands are built into the brain today. While the parts of the brain work together to meet our needs, they do have specialized functions shaped by our evolutionary history. To push the metaphor, it’s as if we each have an inner lizard freezing or fleeing from danger, a mouse sniffing about for cheese, and a monkey looking for its tribe.

The next time you see a wee chickadee, calling contentedly and happily while the air makes you shiver from head to foot, think of the hard-shelled frozen insects passing down his throat, the icy air entering lungs and air-sacs, and ponder a moment on the wondrous little laboratory concealed in his mite of a body; which his wings bear up with so little effort, which his tiny legs support, now hopping along a branch, now suspended from some wormy twig. Can we do aught but silently marvel at this alchemy? A little bundle of muscle and blood, which in this freezing weather can transmute frozen beetles and zero air into a happy, cheery little Black-capped Chickadee, as he names himself, whose bravery shames us, whose trustfulness warms our hearts! And the next time you raise your gun to needlessly take a feathered life, think of the marvellous little engine which your lead will stifle forever; lower your weapon and look into the clear bright eyes of the bird whose body equals yours in physical perfection, and whose tiny brain can generate a sympathy, a love for its mate, which in sincerity and unselfishness suffers little when compared with human affection.

When functioning correctly, the amygdala scans the environment and decides whether to trigger a threat response (fight, flight, or freeze) or give the all-clear signal to the brain to “Move along, nothing to see here!

Helplessness and immobilization keep people from utilizing their stress hormones to defend themselves. When that happens, their hormones still are being pumped out, but the actions they’re supposed to fuel are thwarted. Eventually, the activation patterns that were meant to promote coping are turned back against the organism and now keep fueling inappropriate fight/flight and freeze responses. In order to return to proper functioning, this persistent emergency response must come to an end. The body needs to be restored to a baseline state of safety and relaxation from which it can mobilize to take action in response to real danger.

THE HIPPOCAMPUS: TRACKING THREATS AND MAKING MEMORIES The hippocampus is a seahorse-shaped structure in the center of the limbic system. In my live workshops, the analogy I pick for the hippocampus is that of the military historian. Its most vital job is to compare incoming information with the memory of past threats. If there’s a match, it sounds the alarm by activating the amygdala, which in turn switches on the whole fight-flight-freeze (FFF) system. 3.6. The hippocampus: tracking threats and recording memories. By deciding which signals to pass to the amygdala and which to ignore, the hippocampus regulates our emotions. Some people have an active hippocampus that effectively regulates emotion. Others do not; these unfortunates have a hair-trigger response to their own emotions. They become angry, fearful, or anxious at the slightest stimulus. Their behavior is dictated by their emotions. The hippocampus is also the seat of learning. Novel experiences produce the growth of new synaptic connections in the hippocampus. Go take a class in Mandarin Chinese, learn pickleball, date a new love interest, experiment with recipes from a Hungarian cookbook—your hippocampus will start to grow new connections. But the most essential function of the hippocampus is to catalog the bad stuff of the past, and if anything coming our way in the present resembles that bad stuff, it makes a match and turns on the FFF response.

There are companies out there that literally make fortunes by selling suffering. How did pain become a luxury good? Could it be that there is a specific sort of pain that might serve a hidden evolutionary function?

The more Stapp thought about it, the more he believed that attention picks out one possibility from the cloud of possibilities being thrown up for consideration by the brain. In this case, the choice is which of the superpositions will be the target of our attentional focus. Putting a question to nature, the initial step in collapsing the wave function from a sea of potentialities into one actuality, is then akin to asking, Shall this particular mental event occur? Effortfully attending to one of the possibilities is equivalent to increasing the rate at which these questions to nature are posed. Through the Quantum Zeno Effect, repeatedly and rapidly posing that question affects the behavior of the observed system—namely, the brain. When the mind chooses one of the many possibilities to attend to, it partially freezes into being those patterns of neuronal expression that correspond to the experience of an answer “yes” to the question, Will I do this?

Early trauma—fear or separation anxiety—met with a freeze response due to helplessness—disrupts the ANS in a manner that causes it to dramatically malfunction throughout life by over-functioning or under- functioning—if the corrupted memories are never purged, or discharged. Infant separation trauma can lead to over-sensitization, to colitis, skin problems, allergies, mitral valve prolapse, irritable bladder, ulcers, asthma, immune problems, and of course pain.

I wanted my pain to be gone, now—so I modified my strategy. Each time I would move and get hit by pain, or run and “get hit” with pain, or get up in the morning and be in pain, I would punish my inner self severely by running longer and lifting more weights. I can now see that this punishment I was putting myself through was my way of letting out my frustration and guilt slowly. It was psychologically safer than letting all that repressed energy out at once—for me, and for those around me. I now realize I was discharging a freeze-survival response from my system, finishing a last act of survival, by running from a situation where I previously felt powerless. Running became, metaphorically, running. When we feel helpless we can flee, fight, or freeze to survive the situation. I chose to freeze instead of fighting or fleeing, which is a dangerous thing to do because freezing never allows for the resolution of the trauma—it freezes the trauma in your system, encoding a very dangerous state of existence, disrupting autonomic function. If you don’t fight or flee under trauma, you lock the memory of the event into your system because you never “escaped” the situation in your mind.