The Fastest And Easiest Way To Open Your Pelvic Cradle


I developed my own performance philosophy, because it became apparent to me that no one had a functional one. I started to realize the dire state of this matter when I was reading original translations of Chekhov (not the playwright, the actor) and Stanislavsky (the actor/director). Chekhov and Stanislavsky worked together for a time until Chekhov threw a massive temper tantrum over semantics and branched off into his own performance technique.

Michael Chekhov Was Anton Chekhov’s Nephew

The “ah-ha!” moment for me came when I was comparing these two Russian methodologies (I had been studying Shakespeare performance methods, and some Dada-ist garbage alongside rhetorical analysis and third-generational Marxist bodies of work), and I realized that they–each of them, quite earnestly–were talking about exactly the same end goal, and trying to start a war over whether they should pummel actors with one set of words or another. They were literally fighting over which words they ought to use to describe the same end results.

Stanislavsky Was A Terrible Director

I spent about six years of my life studying actors as they rehearsed and performed in classrooms, tiny audition rooms, and on stages of all sorts. I acted myself, and I watched the dynamics that unfolded over several moderately-budgeted film projects. I was fascinated by the ever-increasing gap between functional performance (by which I mean, acting, storytelling, that resonated deeply with an audience) and spoken or practiced methodology.

Shakespeare Was Handled The Worst, By Far

No one knew what they were doing; the best performers were destroyed by horrible directing and teaching, and support materials were often designed to deliberately hobble the actors or build a wedge of hatred and fear between the performers and the audience.

Gosh, Victor, How Did You Learn Anything?

I met two, no, make that three, good directors over these years, and I compared them exhaustively to the many, many terrible, harmful, and utterly incompetent directors that proliferated around them. Also, remember, I was studying functional source material at the same time (excellent French plays, treatments on Alexander technique, and heavy doses of Graham, Balanchine, and newer American theatre phenomenons, among other things).

Dude, This Is Not An Acting Blog, You Dirty Cross-Pollinator!

All this to say, I found, as I read Michael Chekhov’s ardent haranguing, that no one had a coherent performance philosophy at all–and I will say here, no one had a performance philosophy that functioned. By which I mean, actually worked. And by that I mean that any performance philosophy that cannot be applied by a student actor and create sustainable, measurable results in audience reaction, popularity, and emotional connection as an ensemble and as an individual figure to the public, is only a pile of ego-stroking hot air.

So I Made My Own. Like A Mad Scientist.

I didn’t cackle while I developed it, though I did become personally magnetic, and was borderline stalked by several people of both genders who found a sudden and urgent need to cultivate my favor. When I had the bare bones of a performance philosophy, I started running trials. I tweaked things. I procured several dozen willing guinea pigs in the form of student and community theatre actors, and I applied my techniques to their bodies and personalities.

Enter The Blocked Pelvic Cradle

I found an interesting phenomenon as I tested; I could make very hot, emotionally-viable actors, but they all had the same energy blocks. Every single one of them were blocked through their foundational motion carriage. And here is where I came up against a significant problem; human beings, once blocked through the pelvic cradle, are like grievously-wounded wolves. They bite, metaphorically, because their energy source is cut off, and they are, after a manner of speaking, suffering a slow death of personality.

How Do I Find Out If My Pelvic Cradle Is Blocked, Victor?

Well, the bad news is that your pelvic cradle is probably blocked. The good news is that you can open the energy flow, and remove the obstructions, if you . . .

Duh Duh Duuuuuuh!

Yeah, I recognize this feeling. It’s the feeling I get when I’m about to show how to do something profound. Well, I’m trying something new today. I’m not going to tell you how to work through your energy blocks (I wrote some books for that). When you get tired of that dried-up numb feeling in your hip sockets, shoot me an email, and I’ll think about it.

You’re reading Victor Poole. I was raised to be invisible, and to serve the whims of all other people. I am undoing my early programming. Despite my unfortunate beginnings, my comprehensive performance philosophy, which is painstakingly illustrated via allegory in these nine books, works exceptionally well.

The Quick And Easy Guide To Writing Human Nature

dragon clip

The frill is going to extend up along the side of the head, and the skin will have a silvery tint. I haven’t put in the dragon stone yet, either, but this is one of the beasts from The Second Queen, which I am editing right now.

New Fantasy Book, Very Exciting, Coming Soon!

I actually wrote the first half of this book almost four years ago, and then hit my goal of fifty thousand words and stopped. I wrote a little tag at the bottom of the last chapter; it read, “to be continued . . .”, which I felt was appropriately ominous.

Now It Is 120k Words, And Quite Intoxicating

I looked up one of my old acting rivals last night, just to make sure I’m not as behind as I sometimes feel I am (I’m not behind at all). There are only a couple of genuinely successful people (actors) from my school, and none from my age group. I check periodically, to make sure no one has rocketed to astronomic success before me.

Victor Poole Is A Jealous Person!

I have to start eating more fat. My body is partway through developing into adulthood, and I have the opposite problem of many people, where I have to make sure I eat enough food.

And I’m Slowly Bulking My Arms

Rose, the cat who haunts my house, has discovered the joys of having her undercoat brushed out (you’re welcome, Rose), and now she shadows me along the kitchen counter in the wee hours, mewling appealingly for attention.


This is her before brushing. She is rather sleeker now.

Here’s The Writing Part

Poor writing explains relationships from a standpoint of fairness and equality; the narrative voice plays nice with the characters, and attempts to frame the story within an obviously idealistic world, where all the humans make an effort to get along and build each other up, aside from one or two bad apples who are misunderstood antagonists.

To Write Human Nature, Drop The Fair And Nice Parts

Excellent writing shows the inequality, both between individuals, and between established roles in society. Good writing, and writing that exposes human nature, comes from a framework of predatory abuse. The antagonist is generally a person who recognizes the cannibalistic nature of social exchange, and exploits it without apology or remorse. The protagonist is a genuine person who goes more than halfway to meet people in an exchange of goodwill and fellowship. The conflict in the story arises from the clash of the selfish against the disinterested human.


Bad Writing:

Berthold pushed back his hair, and squinted into the twilight. Shooting was running over schedule, and his wife would be disappointed that he was late for dinner again. So difficult, he thought, to balance the demands of an artistic career with a home life. Relationships were wonderful, though.

Greg fussed over the camera with Joel, and then waved for the sound guy to come over. They were working very hard to set up the next scene.

Berthold felt so lucky to be the star. He dug his feet into the black soil, and suppressed a contented sigh. I’m going to be famous, he told himself, and imagined the tamales that were swiftly going cold at home.

“Here we go,” Greg called, clapping his hands together. “This is it, Berthold. We’re all counting on you.”

Good Writing:

“We’re going to go over that part again,” Greg said, propping his script against his hip and staring shrewdly at Berthold. “Listen, I like what you’re doing, but I need it to feel more, um, fresh. Like you’re waking up into the world for the first time.”

“Okay,” Berthold said. He was thinking of the way his wife would be staring at her phone, waiting for a text. His was turned off, per production rules.

“Just, can you be more innocent about it? Like, pretend you’re a bird.” Greg reached out a hand, and mussed Berthold’s hair to the side. “Like a hungry bird.”

“Okay,” Berthold said again.

“And don’t do that, that smiley thing when you say ‘regret.’ Give me, like, a burst of orange there.”

“Got it,” Berthold replied.

Writing Human Nature Requires Cynicism

And remember, you have a unique perspective on a whole lot of things you’ve lived through. If you frame your experiences with a disillusioned and honest eye, your writing will improve a great deal. And also remember, people are only nice if they’re the protagonist, or if they’re selling something.

You’re reading Victor Poole. Look! I’m selling something! Thursday is the fourth day of the week, and The Dead Falcon is the fourth book in this series.

The Obvious Way To Edit Your Novel That Almost Everyone Ignores


Put your novel into a free Createspace template, complete with chapters, page numbers, and margins. This will make it look like a “real” book. Think of the most detail-oriented but fair critical reader you’ve ever known personally, and go through your novel sentence by sentence with this critical reader present in your mind.

I Think Of My Editor, Who Is The Most Demanding Reader I’ve Ever Met

Think of how they would react to every word choice and punctuation mark. Do not change subjective elements of your novel; only alter things to satisfy the demands of your rigorous friend.

But Victor, If You Have An Editor, Why Are You Doing So Much Work?!

If this process sounds unbearable to you, you need to start looking for an editor who will do this work for you;  the good ones work for free for their friends, at greatly reduced prices for people they know and like, and will rightly charge you more than double your rent if they don’t know you at all.

Looking For An Editor Online Is Like Playing A Lottery Full Of Scamsters

If you’re a person who writes, and you have not yet obtained an agent, a book deal, or a respectable following of readers (don’t despair! These things take time!), you are probably looking at your finished products (stories, novels, essays) through the rose-tinted eyes of a loving and nurturing parent.

Henry Fielding Compares Novels To Children

Children of the brain, he calls them. Try an experiment with me for a moment. Imagine that your latest book is a five- or six-year-old child whom you are about to drop off for the first day of kindergarten (or private school, or neighborhood homeschool co-op).

Is Your Novel Prepared For The Gauntlet Of Public Opinion?

Look at your novel-child. Is it dressed appropriately? (This correlates to the cover design, interior formatting, and sales blurb.) Does it know how to use the bathroom, and have you taught it not to hit or steal? (This correlates to pacing, plot holes, and matters like grammatically-inconsistent style usage.) You may think I am stretching the metaphor too far, but if you examine the public presentation and manners of your writing, you will find a much keener awareness within yourself of what is there and what is lacking.

Victor, My Book Is Not A Kid!

I live next to a little girl who currently attends second grade. She has informed my little boy that she is really fifteen years old, and that she has a thriving rock-selling business that has garnered her gobs of money. These fibs are somewhat charming, but have not alarmed me as a parent. Another boy visits the neighborhood to see his grandparents, and he has proved so destructive and personally malicious that my children are no longer allowed out when he is around (he has a habit of luring younger children out of bounds, and teaching them to throw big rocks).

Where Ya Goin’ With This, Victor?

Let us imagine that our neighborhood boy and girl are novels, complete with their respective behaviors. Now, we will look at how these behaviors may correlate to writing, and how attentive editing, and a mind to the manners of your work, can result in perfectly appropriate prose.


Bad Writing (ill-mannered child):

Drav was the most heroic man in the whole world; in fact, even the monsters in the Wilkren hills feared him. Drav’s name was even a curse word for most of the elvish people, who had learned to hide in their tree homes whenever his shadow darkened the green grass of their province. Drav was taller than a horse, and his pet dragon, Blackwing, ate maidens whenever Drav wasn’t looking. The story of Drav’s greatest exploit starts in a wind-swept plain of the icy mountain, where he had gone to hunt baby ice-birds for their glorious wings. We join him now at the dead of sunset, crouching low over a hillock of snow and ice, glaring with steely nerves at a grouping of the creatures.

Meh Writing (harmless lies):

Drav hoisted his spear over his shoulder, and examined for the fifteenth time the tiny specks in the distance that he was sure were baby ice-birds. They never left their nest this late; he thought they may have been abandoned by their mother. Teeth flashed in his mind. He imagined a snow-tiger mawing hard on the graceful neck, blood staining both snow and feathers. Drav crept forward through the snow. He had promised to himself to obtain at least two fluffy corpses before the night was out, and they will scatter when he flings the weapon. His steps lay behind him, a mosaic pressed into the harsh ground of the unforgiving climate that threatened life here.

Good Writing (well-behaved child):

The ice-birds rolled in the loose snow; their glittering blue feathers sparkled like jeweled robes in the twilight. Drav hung behind a snowbank, his right arm steady and his eyes fixed on the bathing babies. The little ice-birds smashed their extravagant feathers into the powder before flaring their wings to each side, casting snow out in clouds around them.

Drav’s heart had slowed; his arm loosed the spear, which arced through the air and pierced straight through the heart of the largest bird.

As the others tumbled wildly into the air, their plumage throwing flashes of iridescent blue over the snow, Drav stepped over the ridge of snow and drew his throwing knife.

Editing Is Hard Work That You Can Do

Many people regard editing with a superstitious fervor, but it is a matter of manners and public discretion. If you have the sophistication and discernment required to guide a small child into behaving with appropriate decorum in a public place, you have the skills required to edit your novel. If you don’t know any persnickety, but fair, readers, find one and spend time talking over books with them until you can predict their complaints and their reactions. If all of this sounds impossibly difficult, resign yourself to spending a great deal of money. Remember, if you can spend the time and energy writing a wonderful novel, you can also expend the time and energy to learn to shape it into good form.

You’re reading Victor Poole. My editor loves this book. My imaginary dog, Fifu, wants you to buy and read this novel today.


The Best Way To Approach Secrets So Your Novel Takes Delightful Twists


I love reading Agatha Christie novels. She is so sneaky, and her bad guys never seem crazy until the last few pages. I am not remembering the title of the novel at the moment, but she wrote a book about a sculptor, and the character who was the murderer was a tremendous surprise (I used to have a trade paperback of this book, but I misplaced it in a move).

There Was A Pool Behind A Country House

That book was more artistic than her others. It was more nuanced. But back to the point of today.

I went to a high school production of Beauty and the Beast a long time ago. The costumes were pretty good, and the cast and director had worked out a neat switch with a double for the man playing the Beast, so that when the fog cleared away, the mask seemed to have been removed by magic, and the prince was revealed in all his handsome glory.

I Love Good Theatre Tricks

I remember sitting in the auditorium during that show, and thinking about secrets. The director and the cast, I heard afterwards, had gone to great lengths to keep the existence of the double Beast a secret from the families and friends of the performers. The mystery was preserved, and the audience was delighted. (As for how I learned about the switch, well, when you’re an actor, other actors tell you things. Because you’re part of the family, as it were.)

Keeping Secrets Pays Off

And now on to today’s example. It is very important to remember, when you are writing your novel, that your subconscious is capable of unveiling wonderful secrets, if you allow your conscious, driving mind to get out of the way.


Bad Writing (Thinking Brain):

Briel tapped the wire frame of her glasses against her chin as she gazed down into the observatory. Her uncle, Theodore, would come in a moment, and he would not know that she was hidden in the top shelf of the cabinets. Briel had a secret from her uncle; she was going to steal his recipe today, and sell it to the evil moneylender across the street, who wanted to start a rival business peddling marvelous inventions.

Good Writing (Intuitive Secrets): 

Briel chewed on the hem of her sleeve; she was tucked into the height of the belfry, and the doves pecked around her with placid trills. She held a white string in her hand, which trailed down the column and into the stove where her uncle’s latest invention simmered. She was waiting, waiting, for the creak of the door. Her heart seemed to thud in the roof of her mouth; the fabric between her teeth was rough against her tongue.

Hoard Your Secrets With Miserly Intuition

Keeping secrets requires writerly discipline, but the reader is rewarded by a thrill of emotion and excitement when the moment of revelatory locking-into-place finally unfolds. It is far better to follow the unraveling of plot folds that resonate with your gut than to make a scheduled, brainy dispensation of each secret.

You’re reading Victor Poole. Coren’s mother did something awful and secret to him that is revealed in this book. Your gynecologist might want you to read more books like this.


The Invisible People

green leaves

Leed is a little boy; he was born in Talbos, and sold by his parents when he was five years old. The sale was managed by Leed’s uncle. Leed was planted as a child laborer in the quarries of Slavithe.

Leed, The Child-Spy

He was to live as a faux-Slavithe boy there, and to be gradually promoted into higher circles of ranking Slavithe households, and to serve as a spy under the direction of his uncle, who carried information to the network of government spies answering to the king in Talbos.

King Fernos Is A Piece Of Work

Leed’s nasty uncle, his father’s brother, lives as a robber on the road between the cities of Talbos and Slavithe; when Leed obeys Ajalia, instead of his sleazy uncle, his uncle beats him.

An Excerpt:

Ajalia vows to take revenge on the man. This is an excerpt from Into the East:

“What don’t I know?” Leed demanded.

“Things,” Ajalia said.

“That is also nonsense,” Leed told her sternly. “You are avoiding telling me things.”

“Yes, I am,” Ajalia said. Leed gave her a long and offended silence, and then he drew an important breath.

“You are being very dismissive, and rude,” Leed informed her. Ajalia nodded. “You are not allowed to nod, and agree with me!” Leed cried. “You have to fight back, and tell me that I’m wrong. You can’t admit that you’re being rude!”

“I’m being very dismissive, and exceedingly rude,” Ajalia said calmly. Leed stopped on the brightly-lit mountain, and stared at her. When he saw that Ajalia did not stop and come back to confer with him, his face reddened, and he chased after her.

“You are supposed to be nice to me,” Leed told her. Ajalia waited until Leed was just behind her, and then she turned without a word, and caught Leed under the arms. She threw him onto the ground, and caught him just before his face hit the rocks. Leed did not cry out, but his whole body stiffened, and his shoulders and arms spread reflexively. Ajalia felt the breath leave the boy’s body in a long gasp of fear.

The Abuser

Leed is afraid of his uncle, because his uncle is a violent and unprincipled man. Leed is also used to being invisible, in that he is expected to function without any care being taken of him as a person with thoughts and feelings of his own. Leed has never been treated, by anyone, like a child, and he has consequently grown into a functional, invisible entity.

Leed Does Not Think Of Himself As A Person Who Counts

In Western therapy, this phenomenon is called “the forgotten child,” but that is hardly a fulsome description of the experience of not existing.

How Did Ajalia Get Him?

Ajalia wrested ownership of Leed’s labor from a grafter, Gevad, early in the first book of the series; ever after, Leed becomes Ajalia’s right hand and trusted confidant, because she was used in the same way; Leed and Ajalia understand each other.

He Asks For A Knife

Leed, some way into their relationship, says that he wants to learn to defend himself. Ajalia, you see, carries a knife, and uses it when she feels it necessary. Leed lusts after the knife, and the safety he believes it represents.

He Is Working With Philas When Ajalia Begins To Teach Him

Leed has to learn the difference between people who care about him and people who hate him, and he has to become angry on his own behalf. In the beginning of the series, Leed is deep in the culture of his people; he feels obligated to his uncle, and fears the existential consequences of being bad. Because he has been taught that he is not really a person, Leed sees badness as synonymous with standing up for himself, or defending himself from the abuse of his captors.

Leed Doesn’t Want To Be A Bad Person

When Ajalia sees that Leed earnestly desires the self-possession that she has, she strikes a deal with him: she will teach him to defend himself, if he takes revenge on his uncle himself. Ajalia meant to hunt Leed’s uncle herself, but Leed accepts the bargain, and she goes to work.

How Does Ajalia Teach Leed?

She begins by attacking him, but never harming him. Leed, for a long time, is violently indignant. He sees that Ajalia is like him, in that she has also been conditioned to serve others as an invisible nonentity. According to Leed’s ingrained thinking, it is wrong, for either Ajalia or himself, to stand up against any kind of abuse.

He Has To Get Mad Before He Will See Himself As Worthy

Ajalia begins to throw Leed around, and to turn him upside down, always taking care to protect him from pain, but causing him great fear in the process. Leed gets angrier and angrier throughout this process; he accuses Ajalia of hating him, and of being evil. She turns his reasoning back on him, and asks if his uncle is equally evil for causing him physical injury. When she says this, Leed goes very quiet. He does not know how to reply, except to say, in essence, that “It is different with my uncle, somehow.”

She Points Out The Dysfunction In His Thinking

Ajalia presses the point. She takes Leed off guard, again and again, until finally, in the wild mountains between Talbos and Slavithe, Leed gets really angry. He starts to watch her, and to mistrust her. Once he has learned to protect himself physically, she goes to work on his mind, but if you want to hear more about that, you’ll have to read the book.

You’re reading Victor Poole. The passage above is from this book. Mop is another boy Ajalia takes on in The King of Talbos, but he is already perfectly capable of protecting himself.

Are Denial And Cluelessness Blocking Your Fiction?


Midway through my small-time directing career, I worked with a young woman named Sarah. She wanted to be a writer. I believe she was interested in becoming a novelist; she had a degree in English and wrote essays for her blog.

Sarah, A Blogger

Sarah was an oddly-blank young woman; her work was bland and noncommittal. She acted in that particular way that casual hobbyists act, without fear or pride. Her writing, which she was deadly serious about, lacked merit.

She Wanted To Write Important Novels

Sarah liked my way of working a great deal; she wanted to learn how to apply my performative principles to her writing, because she wanted to be a wealthy and famous novelist someday. She saw how my teaching transformed the serious actors into legitimate contenders in the art form, and she came to me several times asking how she could improve her approach to writing.

What Was Wrong?

Sarah needed a top-to-bottom renovation in her approach to writing. Her energy was so stale, and so indifferent, and she was so out of touch with the reality of her position and circumstance in life, that it was as if her thought was never able to fully brush against the page.

Writing That Floats

Her words were hollow, or at the best, inflated with sentimentality, assumed clarity, and pretentious ignorance. I worked with Sarah several times on her writing, and she began, very slowly, to come up against the fact that her craft was going to take second place to her life choices unless she made some serious changes to the way she had arranged her life.

How Did She Float?

Let’s look at some of the main areas in which Sarah’s situation blocked her ability and stunted her innate capacity to create.

  1. Sarah came from a grossly-enmeshed culture of myopic religion with a family-before-all mindset. She was almost wholly absorbed in a large family of origin that vacationed together, overshared financial details together, and interfered freely in each other’s dating and married life.
  2. Sarah had been saturated, from birth, with an innate belief in her rightness and goodness as a female. She had been, as it were, brainwashed with the idea of womanly superiority and moral character. In a sense, Sarah worshipped herself. In this, she lacked any perspective whatsoever, and passed judgement on any and all persons who did not live up to her inflated and grossly-inaccurate ideas of morality and justice.
  3. Building upon the second point, Sarah had no conception of the inner life of man. She had no inner life herself, and had been taught that males exist solely to serve the whims of virginal females. Her ideas of sexual purity and gendered obligation were deep and entrenched.

There were issues beyond these, but these three points are the main areas in which Sarah attempted, and failed miserably, to translate her lived experience into functional fiction.

What Is Functional Fiction?

Fiction works when it connects to the inner life of the receiving party; Sarah could not connect to any other person’s inner life without taking into account the place from which she was beginning.

Sarah Didn’t Take Her Life Into Account

Reality is the starting point, the launching pad, from which actual fiction comes. If you are in ignorance or denial of your circumstances, your fiction, however labored-over, will not function, because your audience will find no live human energy to connect to within the work.

Where Are You Now?

Look at your life; look at your origins. If you are hiding from your circumstances, or inflating your importance, your fiction will suffer for it. If you have divorced yourself from reality, you will find yourself incapable of commenting productively upon reality.

You’re reading Victor Poole. My books are here. Today, Thursday, is the day upon which Vellum releases their hopefully-amazing print edition.

The Creative Person’s Guide To An Integrated Energy Field



One thing that my friend Bryan found out when he started working seriously on acting was that his personal life, and his internal emotional mechanisms, kept interfering massively with his creative choices.

How Did His Personal Life Interfere?

The first time I worked with Bryan, he was developing a monologue for a class assignment. I think the monologue (if I remember correctly) was from the perspective of a man confronting his wife about an affair.

Beginning Acting

We, Bryan and I, were sitting under a set of university stairs. He was a teenager on the verge of adulthood, and I was a bristling-with-eagerness new TA. As we alternated between working the monologue and discussing his acting process, the following observations occurred to me:

  1. Bryan’s mental life had long ago outstripped his emotional life.
  2. Bryan’s father had shaped his views of women in a manner that distorted his potential creative process
  3. Though I could create a bridge between my knowledge and Bryan’s abilities, thereby increasing his present skill, his own internal mechanisms were currently incapable of retaining the improvement.

What Happened To Bryan?

I taught Bryan for about a year and a half, and directed him in several small productions. He, being tall, dark, and the possessor of effective and brooding eyes, was then seized upon by a corrupt professor, and put into a more prestigious production, where he promptly lost his head and fell completely out of touch with genuine creativity.

Ah, Politics, and the Seduction of Flattery

If I could go back in time right now, and sit again with Bryan under the university stairs, I would not make any kind of bridge between my abilities and his talent. I could transform him, for any number of minutes, into a seemingly-advanced actor. I have the ability and the know-how to crutch up any receptive body into apparent genius for a moment or two, long enough for the delivery of a monologue.

But experience, and the wisdom of failure, has shown me the ultimate futility of such assistance. If I could go back in time, to the beginning of Bryan’s acting journey, this is what I would do:

  1. I would unearth his emotional life, and guide him into articulating his primal state of being.
  2. I would guide Bryan into an understanding of distorted child development, and isolate the moment when he deviated from healthy growth and integration.
  3. I would abandon Bryan to his own skill, and allow him to act from the place of the last cohesion of his integrated self.

What Does That Mean?

It is possible, and exceedingly common, for a person to halt in some area of their development and integration as a human being. For example, many grown adults secretly carry the emotional sophistication of a child, and they compensate for stalled development by an overdeveloped intellectualism. Big words cover young feelings, as it were.

Where’s My Guide To An Integrated Energy Field?

Try this brief experiment. Your subconscious is much more aware than you might give it credit for being; if you pose pertinent questions, and keep an open spirit to the answers that your mind will immediately supply, you can learn much about your total integrative qualities.

Answer these questions in your own mind, and keep fear and self-hatred to a minimum in the process:

  1. At what age did you last feel complete peace and wholeness through your body?
  2. What moment ended that sensation of wholeness?
  3. Imagine your intellectual self (words, thinking, reflective ability, and self-awareness), your emotional self (surges of feeling in your center, images and colors that flow through you), and your intuitive self (your ability to picture the future, or predict outcomes from actions or possible scenarios) as being three separate beings within you. Look at each of these three selves, and ask yourself, how old is my intellectual self? My emotional self? And how old is my intuitive self?

When you have answered these questions, you may have found that there is a disturbing disparity between the ages of your internal parts of self.

A wide gap, or stalled development in one or more of the areas of internal selfhood, or firmly-established boundaries between elements of the self, will create enormous and unavoidable disruption in the creative process.

What Do I Do With This Information?

When you gain perspective on the current status of your inherent parts of self, you also gain power over your future. The ideal, in the human performative instrument, is holistic integration of the energy field; this integration is achieved through matching the development of each area, and through the removal of permanent barriers between the parts of self.

If your emotive self is stuck around the age of four, and your intellectual self is thirty-six, your creative work will be dry, like an empty husk. It may be painstakingly beautiful and technically accomplished, but it will not bring genuine joy or a sense of unity and sharing to your audience.

If you are emotionally sophisticated, having developed normally in that part to the age of forty-two, but your intuitive capacity was stalled at the age of two, your creative work will appear dead to your audience. There will be no magic or danger in the execution of your powers.

A melding of the parts of self, and a unity, a harmony between the stages of development, will lead to creative performance that intoxicates and enlivens the reader.

You’re reading Victor Poole. I wrote a series of books that will integrate your disparate parts of self as you read. Wednesday is really fun to say like this: Wed-NEZ-day.