Exploring Dynamic Experience in Psychology, The Arts, Psychotherapy, and Development

Forms of Vitality
Exploring Dynamic
Experience in
Psychology, the Arts,
Psychotherapy, and
Development
Daniel N. Stern MD
Honorary Professor of Psychology,
University of Geneva, Switzerland
Adjunct Professor of Psychiatry,
College of Medicine,
Cornell University, New York, USA
Lecturer, Columbia Center for Psychoanalysis,
Columbia University, New York, USA
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Stem, Daniel N.
Forms of vitality: exploring dynamic experience in psychology, the arts,
psychotherapy, and development / Daniel N. Stern,
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references.
ISBN 978-0-19-958606-6 (acid-free paper) 1. Self-actualization
(Psychology) 2. Vitality. 3. Experience. I. Title.
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Dedication
The inspiration, support and ideas given by my wife,

Nadia Bruschweiler-Stern, have made the writing o f this
book possible. I wish to thank her.
Contents
Part I Introduction and Background 1
1 In tr o d u c in g D y n a m ic “F o rm s o f V itality ” 3
2 T h e N a tu re a n d T h e o re tic a l F ra m e w o rk o f D y n a m ic
“F o rm s o f V ita lity ” 19
3 Id eas fro m P sy c h o lo g y a n d B eh av io ra l Science L e ad in g to

D y n a m ic F o rm s o f V ita lity 33
4 A P o ssib le N e u ro sc ie n tific B asis fo r V ita lity F o rm s: th e

A ro u sa l S ystem s 57
Part II The Role of the Arousal Systems, and the

Examples of Music, Dance, Theater, and
Cinema 73
5 V ita lity F o rm s in M u sic , D a n ce, T h e a te r, a n d C in e m a 75
Part III Developmental and Clinical

implications 99
6 W h e n d o V ita lity F o rm s Begin? A D e v e lo p m e n ta l

V iew 101
7 W h a t Im p lic a tio n s d o F o rm s o f V ita lity H a v e fo r C lin ical
T h e o ry a n d P ractice? 119
R eferen ces 151
In d e x 169
Part I
Introduction and
Background
Chapter 1
Introducing Dynamic "Forms

of Vitality"
The idea of this book is to call attention to an aspect o f hum an

experience that remains largely “hidden in plain view.” This is
the experience of vitality. It is rarely talked about, yet vitality
takes on m any dynam ic form s and perm eates daily life, psy
chology, psychotherapy, and the arts.
However, what is vitality? W e know that it is a manifestation of
life, of being alive. We are very alert to its feel in ourselves and its
expression in others. Life shows itself in so many different forms
o f vitality. There m ust be an almost infinite range o f forms of
vitality. How should we deal with vitality and where do we start?
In centuries past, the doctrine of “vitalism” stated that life was
caused and sustained by a vital principle involving a vital ele
m ent (elan vital) that is distinct from all known physical, chem
ical, and m ental forces. This view was abandoned long ago w ith
the advance of science. Moreover, little attention has been paid
to vitality subsequently.
However, the issue o f vitality has not gone away. It remains as
a real hum an experience. We live impressions of vitality like we
breathe air. W e naturally experience people in term s of their
vitality. W e intuitively evaluate their emotions, states of m ind,
what they are thinking and what they really mean, their authentic
ity, what they are likely to do next, as well as their health and ill
ness on the basis of the vitality expressed in their almost constant
movements. The time-based arts, namely music, dance, theater,
4 | FORMS OF VITALITY
and cinema (the examples used in this book), move us by the

expressions of vitality that resonate in us.
W ithout manifestations of vitality, the world would be bereft
o f m uch of its interest, and hum an interactions would be dig
ital rather than analogic, whatever that might be like.
Therefore, in order to resume, in this century, an exploration
of vitality, we shall start by treating vitality as a m ental creation,
as a p ro d u ct of the m in d ’s integration of m any internal and
external events, as a subjective experience, and as a phenomenal
reality. However, vitality m ust have a basis in physical action
and traceable m ental operations. It is n o t independent from
them as the doctrine of vitalism would have had it.
We shall start w ith m ovem ent, for reasons evident below.
However, m ovem ent does n o t occur alone when experienced
by the h u m an m ind. It carries along w ith it o th er events.
A movement unfolds in a certain stretch of time, even if that is
very short. There is a tem poral contour or tim e profile of the
m ovem ent as it begins, flows through, and ends. Therefore a
sense of tim e, its shape and duration is created in the m ind,
along with the movement. After all, time is a hum an invention.
M ovement also brings with it the perception or attribution of
force(s) “behind” or “within” the movement.
In addition, m ovem ent has to happen in space, so a sense of a
space is defined by the movement.
Finally, a m ovem ent has directionality. It seems to be going
somewhere. A sense of intentionality is also inevitably added. In
a sense force, time, space, and directionality could be called the
four daughters of movement.
Therefore, starting with movement, we get five dynamic events
linked together. These five theoretically different events -
m ovem ent, tim e, force, space, and intention/directionality-
taken to g eth er give rise to th e experience o f vitality. As a
globality, a Gestalt, these five components create a “fundamental
INTRODUCING DYNAMIC "FORMS OF VITALITY" 5
dynamic pentad.” This natural Gestalt gives rise to the experi

ence of vitality in one’s own movements and in those o f others.
Yet how are all of these separate elements pulled together to
result in the experience of vitality? Do we learn that these five
events belong together or is the m ind designed to fuse them? The
sciences are in a difficult situation. On the one hand, they are led
by their nature to understand events at smaller and smaller levels
of greater reduction, and in greater isolation one from the other,
to understand better how they work. This results in a fragmenta
tion of the world as we normally know it. For example, in explor
ing our ability to recognize a familiar face, we now know that the
nervous system has neurons or separate circuits th a t process
light-dark contrasts, while others are devoted to evaluating sym
metry in the vertical plane, yet others process specific features and
proportions, and so on. All of these operations occur out of con
sciousness. They are fascinating, b u t are far from the norm al
unthinking phenomenal experience of recognizing a familiar face.
The problem then becomes how we p u t this fragmented world
back together again. How can we reintegrate it into the familiar
“wholes” that make up our everyday phenom enal experience?
Vitality is a whole. It is a Gestalt that emerges from the theo
retically separate experiences of movement, force, tim e, space,
and intention. It is not analyzed in any conscious way piece by
piece, any m ore than a familiar face is, even though each sepa
rate element could be taken aside and studied in isolation.
The Gestalt or “emergent property” seems to be the m ost use
ful concept for dealing with holistic experience. The leap to a
Gestalt is as mysterious as the appearance of an emergent prop
erty. The sciences struggle with it (e.g. dynamic systems theory,
com plexity th eory, an d chaos th eo ry ). H ow ever, w holes,
Gestalts, and em ergent properties are w hat we have to work
with and are, largely, what the familiar world seems to be made
of. W e accomplish this extraordinary integrative act all the tim e
6 FORMS OF VITALITY
w ithout thinking about it. In addition, at the surface, dynamic

form s o f vitality, like so m any phenom ena, are im m ediately
grasped from the fundam ental dynamic pentad.
However, it is helpful to identify the various features th at
contribute to creating the whole and to look m ore closely at this
Gestalt of vitality.
W hat makes forms of vitality “dynamic”? Albert Einstein was
once asked w hether he thought in words or pictures. It is said
that he answered, “Neither, I think in terms of forces and volumes
m oving in tim e and space.” That is a physicist’s language of
“dynamics,” the process of change or rapid evolution of forces in
motion. As used by Einstein, “dynamics” describes the changing
happenings of the universe. There is even something like intention
here, except that it takes the nonmental form of entropy or gravity.
Now zoom in to describe the “dynamics” of the very small
events, lasting seconds, that make up the interpersonal, psycho
logical m om ents of our lives: the force, speed, and flow o f a
gesture; the tim ing and stress of a spoken phrase or even a word;
the way one breaks into a smile or the tim e course o f decom
posing the smile; the m anner of shifting position in a chair; the
tim e course o f lifting the eyebrows w hen interested and the
duration of their lift; the shift and flight of a gaze; and the rush
or tum ble o f thoughts. These are examples o f the dynam ic
form s and dynam ic experiences of everyday life. The scale is
small, b u t that is where we live, and it makes up the m atrix of
experiencing other people and feeling their vitality.
The same is true for the time-based arts. The dynamic flow of
music (sound in m otion), dance, theater, and cinema sweeps us
up at mom ents and then releases us, only to sweep us up again
quickly just downstream. The fundam ental dynamic pentad of
m ovem ent, tim e, force, space, and intention appears to be a
basic, natural Gestalt that applies to the inanimate world as we
observe it, to interpersonal relationships as we live them , and to
INTRODUCING DYNAMIC "FORMS OF VITALITY" | 7
the products of culture as we experience them. This seems to be

the way the m ind was designed to grasp dynamic happenings.
The term “dynamics” has m any meanings. Physics deals with
the dynamics of objective forces that act to move or equilibrate
m easurable systems. It is energy, power, and force in m otion.
Alternatively, it is change that is in process. It is the opposite of
static. In m usic, the term “dynam ics” is usually restricted to
changes in loudness (am plitude, as the product of force). The
time course of the change is implied. In psychoanalysis, psychic
forces and counter-forces and their resultant experiences (“psy
chodynamics”) act over developmental time to create a history of
meanings. Thompson (1994) writes about “emotional dynamics,”
referrring to the processes that create an emotion from mutually
interacting inputs (forces) of arousal, cognitive appraisal, social
context, etc. There are also the “dynamics” of our bodily move
ments in daily life and sports. The dynamic forms of vitality are
different. They are psychological, subjective phenom ena th at
emerge from the encounter with dynamic events.1
To understand dynamic forms of vitality m ore clearly, con
sider the following list of words:
exploding surging accelerating

swelling bursting fading
drawn out disappearing fleeting
forceful powerful weak
cresting pulsing tentative
rushing pulling pushing
relaxing languorous floating
fluttering effortful easy
tense gentle halting
gliding swinging tightly
holding still loosely bounding
and m any more.
8 FORMS OF VITALITY
The time X intensity (force) axes are readily grasped for some,
less easily grasped for others. For example, see Figure 1.1.
Figure 1.1 Time x intensity (force) graphs for three possible vitality forms.
Although these words are com m on enough, this list is curi

ous. M ost of the words are adverbs or adjectives. The items in it
are not em otions. They are n o t m otivational states. They are
not pure perceptions. They are not sensations in the strict sense,
as they have no modality. They are not direct cognitions in any
usual sense. They are not acts, as they have no goal state and no
specific means. They fall in between all the cracks. They are the
felt experience of force - in movem ent - with a tem poral con
tour, and a sense of aliveness, of going somewhere. They do not
belong to any particular content. They are more form than con
tent. They concern the “How ,” the m anner, and the style, not
the “W hat” or the “W hy.”
Regardless of the “content” (thoughts, actions, and emotions),
this Gestalt o f vitality has its own flow p attern (e.g. acceler
ating, exploding, and fading). It constitutes a separate kind of
experience.
I argue that dynamic forms of vitality are the m ost fundam en
tal o f all felt experience w hen dealing w ith other hum ans in
motion.
Why is this Gestalt called forms of "vitality"?

The experience of vitality is inherent in the act of m ovem ent.
M ovem ent, and its proprioception, is the prim ary m anifes
ta tio n o f being anim ate and provides the p rim ary sense o f
aliveness.
W e m ove all the tim e, both physically and mentally. If our
m ind and body were not in a constant process of change when
awake, we w ould n o t feel alive and vital. I am w riting about
dynamic changes th at occur constantly. O ur respirations rise
and fall over a cycle th at repeats every three or four seconds.
O ur bodies are in almost constant motion: we move our m outh,
twitch, touch our face, make small adjustments in head position
and orientation, alter our facial expression, shift the direction of
our gaze, adjust the muscular tone of our body position, wheth
er standing, sitting, or lying (if awake). These processes go on
even when n ot visible from the outside. Gestures and larger acts
unfold in time. They change fluidly once an act has started. W e
can be conscious of any of this, or it can rem ain in peripheral
awareness. In addition, with every m ovem ent there is proprio
ception, conscious or not.
At the same time as the body is moving, thoughts are “moving”
(virtually) in the m ind, sometimes wandering, at other times
progressing apace, or exploding or tum bling about, or fading
out. Similarly, emotions ebb and flow, slightly or dramatically.
Sensations impinge, build up or overwhelm, their intensity and
duration tracing a tim e line, as does musical flow or dancing, or
any stim ulus. In addition, while often neglected, ou r arousal
level undergoes micro-shifts. There is shifting vigilance, atten
tion, and engagement with passing events.
Seeing a dead person is im m ediately shocking because they
do n o t move, nothing moves, and even the almost subliminal
vib ratio n s o f to n icity stop. W e grasp this in a glance w ith
0 FORMS OF VITALITY
peripheral vision. W ithout m otion we cannot read in or imag

ine m ental activity u n d ern eath , or thoughts, em otions, or
“will.” That is how we know there is no vital presence. (This is
also related to how we experience ourselves; see Sevdalis &
Keller, 2008.)
Similarly, when a m other goes “still face” while facing her
infant, i.e. not moving her face at all, not even with slight expres
sions, the baby, or even a neo n ate, becom es u p set w ithin
seconds. Newborns already have working peripheral vision that
is designed to detect m otion at the periphery. Accordingly, still
ness is registered no m atter where their focal vision is on the
m other’s face.
The ongoing changes of almost constant m ovem ent reignite
and m aintain our sense o f being alive, of “going on being” a la
W innacott (1971). In addition, if m ovem ent did n o t have a
dynamic flow, but was a sequence of discrete steps, we would be
digital organisms from the land of the early-generation robots.
H ow is it that dynam ic form s of vitality are relatively little
considered and understood? We know them so well, perhaps
too well. Vitality forms are hard to grasp because we experience
them in almost all waking activities. They are obscured by the
felt quality o f em otions as it accom panies them . They are
absorbed into the explicit meaning as the vitality form accom
panies a train of thought, so we do not pay attention to the feel
of the emergence of the thought, b u t only to its contents. It slips
through our fingers. It is strange th a t even w hen it comes to
m o to r acts, dynam ic experiences are m ost often taken for
granted as a p a rt o f m eans-ends operations to accom plish a
goal, and thus receive little additional attention. Today we think
m ore in term s o f “em bodim ent” and the “em bodied m in d ”
(Varela, Thom pson, & Rosch, 1991). One of the meanings of
this concept is that all acts (mental and physical) m ust take on
INTRODUCING DYNAMIC "FORMS OF VITALITY" [ 1
a tem poral shape while they are being enacted. If they did not,
our experience of the hum an world would not be incarnated - it
would be unrecognizable.
Forms of vitality, although little studied, are rich w ith impli
cations. These will be explored below.
Why should we explore forms of vitality

further?
The first set of reasons are psychological and clinical.
1. D ynam ic form s of vitality are p a rt of episodic m em ories
and give life to the narratives we create about ou r lives.
Accordingly, dynamic forms of vitality provide another path
for psychotherapy to access non-conscious past experience,
including memories, dissociated experiences, phenom eno
logical experience, past experience known implicitly and never
verbalized, and in particular “implicit relational knowing”
(how we implicitly know how “to be w ith” a specific other
(Stern, 1985; Lyons-Ruth, 1998; Boston Change Process Study
Group, 2002). Forms of vitality are part of all past experience.
As such, they offer a special verbal way to evoke past experi
ence (see Chapter 7). Gestalt and other therapies do this, too,
b u t w ith o u t a particular focus or m ention th a t dynam ic
aspects are an im portant element of opening the past.
To provide an example, here is a m icrodynam ic anecdote
from everyday life:
A m an is sitting on the porch in a rocking chair. Except for the easy
back-and-forth m otion, he is still. H e is thinking about his daughter’s
visit right after she left. Thoughts surface in sequence, some surge up
quickly, others float u p m ore slowly: how she looked, h o w it m ade
h im feel good, b u t was there a sadness underneath? Emphatically,
“Yes”! D id she alm ost say something? B ut still, w hen she was here he
laughed m ore fully. At this point, he breaks into a slow slight smile.
| FORMS OF VITALITY
It fades ... and a song floats up from m em ory, "The sunshine girl has
tear drops in her eyes.” H e makes no interpretations.
Each th o u g h t and its feeling makes its own different entrance onto
his “m ental stage.” Some arrive w ith a rapid “attack” and are sud
denly there. O thers slip quietly onto the stage. Each has its own con
to u r, som e fluctuate in -o u t, others w eak-strong, som e accelerate
and crest, some arrive w ith force then peter away. Each has its own
duration and form o f disappearance for the next to surface.
The train o f his thoughts is broken off altogether when the presence of
a tree on the lawn emerges involuntarily and easily into his awareness.
The leaves are m oving slightly in the breeze. A new present m om ent
emerges before him , b u t it doesn’t hold him . It slips away and stops
getting registered. H e sinks into a m om entary stretch o f apparently
n o t thinking, n o t perceiving, b u t his overall feeling is still m oving
down, settling deeper into him . The chair’s rocking m otions dim in
ish in size, so the rh y th m accelerates progressively an d th e n stops.
N ow there is only the rise and fall o f his breathing. A feeling jum ps
u p into his consciousness and swells - a feeling o f things n o t right,
o f agitation. The feeling grows very gradually and then faster. A t its
crest, he suddenly tenses his muscles, ready to bu rst o u t o f the chair
an d go to the telephone. B ut th at feeling subsides, rapidly at first,
th en slowly. H e deflates. As it decreases, it becomes m ore sad, even
sour. H e slumps back into his chair.
To best grasp the perspective taken in this chapter, the reader

should h o ld in check for the tim e being his or her usual
paths o f curiosity about the above vignette. Do n o t dwell on
questions like the following. W hat did the daughter not say?
W hat did he imagine was going on within her? W hy was his
reaction not more immediate when she was still there? W hat
did he plan or w ant to say to her on the telephone? Is this
in te rac tio n th eir characteristic way o f dealing w ith the
unsaid? Is this a repeating pattern between father and daugh
ter, or a family pattern? W hat historical events forged these
patterns? And m any other such questions.
Instead, I would direct the reader to ask different questions.
W hat does it feel like and mean to have a thought “surge up,”
“fade in,” “accelerate and crest,” or enter on the scene with

a “rapid attack”? W hat does it m ean and feel like to have a
“feeling jum p up and swell” or “move down and settle deep
er”? On the other hand, what does it m ean and feel like to
suddenly alm ost “b u rst” out of a chair? In this particular
example, I would have asked him first to tell me m ore about
w hat it felt like to have a surge up and crest, then to subside
the intention and readiness to get up from the chair. Is he
fam iliar w ith this sequence of vitality dynamics from the
past? H as he experienced these before, and when? T hat
m ight better prepare him for later questions about the nar
rative. Q uestions directed to the dynam ic experience o f
vitality lead to clinically pertinent material by a path that is
described m ore fully in Chapter 6.
2. H ow can empathy, sympathy, and identification be explained
w ithout in some way capturing the exact m ovem ent charac
teristics o f a specific person? M irror neurons can well explain
the “w hat” o f an act (its goal-directedness). In addition,
other mechanisms like intention detection centers can help
to explain the “why,” its intent and goal (Ruby & Decety,
2001). However, for identification based on faithful im ita
tion one also needs the “how” - the other’s “dynamic move
m ent signature,” their form of vitality (see H obson & Lee,
1999 for an example of the difference between the how and
the what).
3. Related to the above, how can one recognize known others
w hen they are n o t in focal vision? Each individual has a
m ovem ent signature. W e can recognize their w alk from
behind, even at a distance (Loula et al., 2005). Peripheral
vision allows us to keep at least two separate and different
actions occurring at different speeds in the visual fields at the
same tim e, one in the left visual field, and one in the right
FORMS OF VITALITY
(Paxton, 2008). In a similar vein, jazz musicians can move in

tim e w ith the other players in an im provising ensem ble,
allowing them to mesh their music (Keller, 2008).
In groups where everyone is moving, as in hunting or some
sports, it is an advantage to be able to pick out individuals
using just peripheral vision based on their movement dynam
ics. We do not have to rely on the focal vision needed for face
or body shape recognition. This gives an adaptive advantage.
4. Dynamic forms of vitality dynamics help one to adapt to new
situations th at arise. If one had to deal w ith each dynamic
element separately (its speed, intensity, tem poral contour,
etc.), the process would require m uch integrative work with
the fragments and w ould be inefficient. Some Gestalt that
integrates the m any dynam ic elem ents needs to be in te r
posed between the stim uli and the subjective experience as
acted upon so as to streamline the processes of adaptation.
This Gestalt is the dynamic form of vitality. The situation is
no different from ou r passing over phonem es to grasp a
word, or passing over words to capture the sense o f a phrase,
or being unaware of the evaluation checks when appraising
an em otion (see below).
Similarly, how can we progress from a general category of
action (walking, smiling) to someone’s specific walk or smile
that carries the signature of their own unique vitality? We
now know that m any categories of action that we previously
thought of as fairly fixed m otor patterns, or representations
or schemas, such as reaching to grasp an object, are not so
fixed. Thelen & Sm ith (1994) have shown how a specific
reach by an infant is accomplished by a “soft assembly” of
different forces, speeds, hand orientations, limb extensions,
and muscle groupings that are fitted to the exact local situa
tion at the m om ent o f reaching (i.e. a “real-w orld” reach,
INTRODUCING DYNAMIC "FORMS OF VITALITY" | 1
n o t an abstract one as given by language). There are thus

hundreds of reaches. And so it is with forms of vitality. They
are involved in the translation from the general to the spe
cific, in the m oment-to-m oxnent process of adaptation and
enactm ent. Vitality dynamics are thus crucial for fitting a
living organism into the world that it encounters.
Pursuing the dom ain of vitality dynamics m ay refocus inter
est on several neuroscientific questions that rem ain open.
1. W e have good descriptions o f m any Gestalts, em ergent
properties, and other holistic events, b u t still lack greater
detail about the nature of their form ation and underlying
structure.
2. .Where in the brain do dynamic experiences reside, or rather
emanate from? It cannot be from any one modality, or any
one specific dom ain such as cognition, emotion, or action.
It has to be in m ultiple sites throughout the brain, how do
they get integrated coherently? This involves various forms
o f the “binding” problem and the question o f multisensori-
ality, particularly because it applies to distinct holistic expe
riences.
3. H ow is speed, or rate of change, processed in the brain, and
where? Even m ore difficult is the question o f how a progres
sive change in rate is processed and represented (e.g. an
acceleration). After all, an exponential rate shift can be fasci
nating, exciting, and memorable.
4. H ow are relative levels o f intensity in different m odalities
grounded and scaled? In addition, how are different inten
sity levels in different modalities compared?
5. H o w are d iffe re n t rh y th m s processed? H ow does the
brain allow the m ind to open up to polyrhythm icity or to
synrhythmicity?
FORMS OF VITALITY
6. Similarly, how are different tim e and intensity contours

processed and represented, and where? How large a reper
toire of dynamic experiences can the brain handle and rep
resent (i.e. how m any forms of vitality)?
7. Will multisensoriality prove to be ubiquitous not only at the
level of single neurons (Stein & Stanford, 2008), regardless of
the anatomical region in which they are found, but at higher
organizational levels as well? Will the functional anatomy of
the brain have to be radically changed (Ghazanfar & Schroeder
2006), and if so, what are the consequences for psychology?
Plan of the book

This book is divided into three parts. Part I is an introduction
and background. This first chapter has been an overview of the
n a tu re o f dynam ic form s o f vitality, and an in tro d u c tio n .
Chapter 2 provides the conceptual framework that vitality forms
are built upon, and explains m ore of their nature. Chapter 3
provides a brief selected review of the attempts of psychological
and behavioral science to deal with dynamic forms of vitality.
Part II suggests a neuroscientific underpinning for forms of
vitality, and shows how the tim e-based arts require and use
these form s. C hapter 4 suggests a m ajor role for the arousal
systems in the creation of dynamic forms of vitality. It addresses
the neuroscience of the arousal systems that suggest and sup
p o rt the ideas p u t forward. Chapter 5 examines how vitality
forms have been dealt with in the arts of music, dance, theater,
and cinema, and forms the basis of collaborations.
P art III concerns the im plications of form s o f vitality for
developm ental and clinical work. C hapter 6 discussses when
dynam ic vitality experience m ay arise in very early develop
ment, and the central place of arousal in life’s beginning. Finally,
INTRODUCING DYNAMIC "FORMS OF VITALITY" |
Chapter 7 addresses various theoretical and practical implica

tions o f dynamic forms of vitality for adult psychotherapies.
This inquiry aims to further identify and explore this realm of
dynam ic form s o f vitality, and to illustrate the breadth of its
scope. This descriptive enterprise m aybe helpful in approaching
the dynam ic dim ension from psychological, neuroscientific,
and phenomenological perspectives, and m ay be useful in reo
rienting some of our notions of emotion theory, mem ory struc
ture, and social com m unication, as well as psychotherapeutic
theory and practice.
Notes
1 I have been concerned w ith the dynamic aspects o f experience over m any
years. Along the way, different term s have been used for this aspect,
including “vitality affects,” ‘‘tem poral feeling shapes,” “tem poral feeling
contours,” “proto-narrative envelopes,” “vitality contours,” an d now
“dynamic form s o f vitality” (Stern e ta l, 1984; Stern, 1985,1994, 1995,
1999, 2004). Koppe, H arder, & Vaever (2007) p o in t o u t that som e o f the
shifts in term inology create problems. They ask w hether the shifts in
term s reflect changes in underlying concepts. Yes and no. Probably the
m ain reason for this terminological drift is the difficulty o f putting
dynam ic term s into precise w ords and never quite capturing w hat is
w anted, leading to fresh attem pts, which are, never fully satisfying. In
other words, changes in the term s do n o t necessarily reflect significant
changes in the underlying concept. In m y m ind, there has been less
conceptual drift and m ore re-emphasis in different conceptual contexts.
In this book, I gather all o f these term s together under the m ore
englobing term “dynamic forms o f vitality.” This adds “force,”
“m ovem ent,” “space,” “directionality,” and “aliveness” to the previous
discussions o f tim e and intensity.
Chapter 2
The Nature and Theoretical

Framework of Dynamic
"Forms of Vitality"
This chapter explores the basic concepts essential to forms of

vitality, nam ely the prim acy o f m ovem ent, the nature of the
forces involved, the tem poral contouring of movements, space
and directionality/intentionality, the em ergent p ro p erty o f
aliveness, the separation of form from content, and the disen
tangling of vitality forms from emotions and sensations.
The primary role of movement in creating forms

of vitality
As dynam ic experience arises from forces in m ovem ent, the
place of m ovem ent becom es crucial. M ovem ent is our m ost
prim itive and fundam ental experience. M any thinkers have
long argued that besides the fact that m ovem ent comes first in
anim ate evolution and in developm ent, it has a prim acy in
experience throughout life.
D uring evolution, approach and withdrawal emerged from
the general capacity to move. The different emotions then dif
ferentiated out from approach and withdrawal. Bodily concepts
and then, progressively, language evolved from this m ovem ent
base (Panksepp, 1998). The philosopher Sheets-Johnstone (1999)
has w ritten a book entitled The Primacy o f M ovement, which
also proposes th at m ovem ent comes first in both phylogeny
FORMS OF VITALITY
and ontology. Langer (1953, 1969/72) gave movem ent a foun

dational role in feeling. Lakoff & Johnson (1980, 1999) and
McNeil (2005) give it a fundam ental role in thinking and lan
guage. Gallese & Lakoff (2005) suggest that images, concepts,
and language itself are b o rn in the integrative activity o f the
sensory m otor cortex. Husserl (1962, 1964), from the perspec
tive o f philosophy, considered m ovem ent to be the m other of
cognition. Similarly, Polanyi (1962) stated that thoughts come
out of bodily experiences, from the tacit knowledge embedded
in the body. (Einstein also said that, for him, thinking in m ath
ematics involved sensations of bodily movement.)
M ovem ent is alm ost everywhere. W hen we hear music, we
experience “sound in m otion” (Kurth, 1925). We often imagine
specific sounds (from one source) m oving in different direc
tions. W hen we watch dance, b ut are not moving ourselves, we
have the feel o f our own bodies in virtual m otion because of
m irror system activity (see Chapter 6). W hen we hear or read
language, or let free the imagination, we can experience virtual
worlds of forces in m otion.
The m ind is indeed embodied, and m otion is key. However,
we cannot fully understand movem ent without knowing how it
is deployed. Knowing the “what” and “why” of a m ovement is
incom plete w ithout knowledge of the “how .” Dynamics con
cern the “how.”
I am interested in how different m ovem ents w ith different
dynam ic form s are grasped by the m in d and felt as vitality
forms. It does n o t m atter w hat m odality the dynamic m ove
m ent arises from. It is recruited by the emotion system but also
by other systems. It can arise from inside or outside, from emo
tion or cognition, from nature or art. In fact, concerning art, it
is obvious that vitality dynamics is a fundam ental aspect of per
formance in the tim e-based arts. Dynamic forms of a piece of
m usic are w ritten into the m usical score. M oreover, beyond
NATURE AND THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK OF DYNAMIC "FORMS OF VITALITY" |
that, the difference between a technically adequate perform

ance and a transporting interpretation lies in the unique vitality
dynamics that a great artist can bring to the work and transm it
to an audience. The power of dance and cinema lies beyond the
storyline and resides in the dynamic experience of the story’s
enactment. The different forms o f art could never talk to each
o th er and collaborate w ith o u t vitality dynam ics. It is their
“esperanto.” I shall return to this point in Chapter 5.
Mental movement
Dynamic forms of vitality include mental m ovement as well as
physical action. However, what is a “mental m ovem ent”? As we
th ink of som ething or feel em otion or sensation, the m ental
experience is n ot static. Subjectively, a thought can rush onto
the m ental stage and swell, or it can quietly just appear and then
fade. It has a beginning, middle, and ending. The experience of
m ovem ent (physical or mental) traces a small journey. It takes
time. M ental m ovement, while it is happening, traces a profile
of its rising and falling strength as it is contoured in time. This
is its dynamic form of vitality.
M ental m ovem ent also includes imagined m ovem ents such
as preparing to execute a physical m ovem ent or form ing an
image. As B rentano (1874/1973) pointed out, the m in d can
in ten d (i.e. reach o u t for) a w ord or image. If som eone says
“T hink of the m oon,” your m ind will “stretch” for an image,
subjectively. (“In te n d ” is translated from the Latin for “to
stretch o u t” toward, to “aim .”) Intentions are m ental expres
sions o f directio n al forces getting ready, even straining to
“m ove,” or already started b u t still unfolding. Like a musical
phrase, they lean forward subjectively.
In addition, we now know th at imagining the perform ance
of a particular action generates a pattern of brain activity that
FORMS OF VITALITY
is sim ilar to th a t g en erated w hen th e activity is actually

perform ed. T here is v irtu a l m ovem ent (e.g. Jean n ero d &
Frak, 1999).
Force
M ost m ental and physical m ovements are subjectively experi
enced as caused and guided by forces. Different fields of inquiry
use different concepts and terms for these forces. Psychology, in
general, speaks of “m otives” and “intentions,” cognitive psy
chology and neurosciences o f “values” th a t attract, psycho
analysis o f “desires,” “w ishes,” an d “drives,” ethology o f
triggering activation or releasing fixed action patterns, and phi
losophers speak of “will” (Haggard, 2008).
As forms of vitality are subjective phenomena, they arise from
how the m ind processes dynamic experience from any source
(“real” or imagined). The experience contains an inferred, sub
jectively felt force th a t is experienced as acting “b eh in d ” or
“within” the event and throughout its course.
Although we know that movement, as a purely physical phe
nom enon, is explicable in terms o f anatomy, biochemistry, and
physiology, we nonetheless have a tendency to attach the
feeling-perception of force, energy, power, and vigor to hum an
movement. We read these attributes into the actions of others,
and experience them em anating from our own actions. This
fundam ental tendency appears to be a “m ental primitive” (how
the m ind evolved to process certain events) that continues to
act alongside what we call scientific knowledge. It does not m at
ter if we call these forces the products o f animistic thinking or
folk psychology. As holistic events, they will n ot disappear from
our daily psychological world. The pairing of force with m otion
is indissoluble as direct experience - it is p art of the “funda
m ental dynamic pentad” for experiencing dynamic events.
NATURE AND THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK OF DYNAMIC "FORMS OF VITALITY"
Separating vitality forms from the unfolding

of content
Vitality forms are associated with a content. M ore accurately,
they carry a content along w ith them . Vitality form s are n o t
empty forms. They give a tem poral and intensity contour to the
content, and w ith it a sense of an alive “perform ance.” The
c o n te n t can be an em otion or shifts in em otion, a tra in o f
thoughts, physical or m ental movements, a memory, a phantasy,
a m eans-end action, a sequence o f dance steps, or a shot in a
film. The vitality dynamic gives the content its form as a dynam
ic experience. The contents, by themselves, need not conform
to any particular dynamic experience. Anger can appear on the
scene explosively, or build progressively, or arrive sneakily,
or coldly, and so on. So could happiness a n d its smile. The
arousal systems provide a good part o f the dynamic force and
form.
The content material provides the goal, the specific behavio
ral patterns to reach the goal, and the qualia. However, only
w hen the contents are yoked to arousal do they take on a
dynam ic form o f vitality. This is w hat gives them the feel of
flowing and aliveness - of being human.
Vitality form s color the experience of the content and are
colored by it as well. Vitality forms rarely exist alone w ithout
some content (although they can do so). Throughout, we shall
m aintain this distinction between the vitality form of an experi
ence and the contents of the same experienced event, even when
they can have various degrees of merger. In addition, even when
the contents are sculpted into phenomenal shape by the dynamic
form of vitality.
(The general issue of form versus content has a long history
in m any fields. I shall not take it up, as it would lead us too far
afield.)
FORMS OF VITALITY
Although we often merge the vitality form w ith the experi

ence of its content to create a holistic event, they rem ain sepa
rable. Usually it is the experience of the contents (the thought,
act, em otion, etc.) th at attracts ou r hum an interest, b u t not
always. For instance, suppose th a t som eone reaches for an
object (the goal-directed reach is the content of the act, the
“what”) but they do so violently (the dynamic form, the “how”).
We can focus on the reach-to-goal or the explosion o f the act,
or back and forth, or merge them.
The only tim e when we could experience a pure vitality form
devoid o f content would be in the first milliseconds after a stim
ulus, when the arousal system has already fired, but before the
emotions and cognitions have had time to kick in, or perhaps in
the earliest phases of life, as we shall see in Chapter 6.
However, not all experiences have a perceived duration. Some
act instantaneously, or else they arise from static stimuli, such
as paintings or photography.1
The problem of separating vitality forms from the experience
of the content has not yet been resolved here, and requires fur
ther discussion. Experience m ust be m ultiply encoded in the
brain, presumably in separate b ut overlapping neural networks.
There m ust be a “content recording” that registers w hat h ap
pened, and in what modality it was received, another recording
th at registers w hy it happened (the in ten tio n ), and a third,
a “dynamic recording” that registers the dynamic form of the
event while unfolding how it happened. There m ust also be
other separate b u t related recordings, such as a real tim e and
place recording that places the experience in personal-historic
time and place, and others. I shall focus only on the distinction
between the content and the dynamic form encodings.
Suppose the brain (not the m ind) did not care as m uch as we
usually imagine how stimuli got inside to activate neural circuits.
Once inside, the neural circuitry is so interconnected and mul-

tisensory that the original source or modality of entry is im por
tant b u t not necessarily controlling or over-restrictive. W hether
a sound was heard or a movem ent visually perceived, the brain
will deal w ith it, to some extent, as a m ultisensory event (e.g.
Calvert etal., 1999; Pourtois e ta l, 2000; Ghazanfar & Schroeder,
2006; Zatorre et a l, 2007; Karns & Knight, 2009).
Once an experience activates the brain, it will leave a purely
vitality dynamic representation and a content representation.
The dynam ic representation m ust encode the speed and its
changes, the intensity (force) and its changes, and the duration,
and the tem poral stresses, rhythm, and directionality. The con
tent representation m ust encode the m odality from which the
stim ulus em anated, sound, sight, touch, etc., the qualia of the
experience (redness, harm onious, etc.), the m eans and goals,
and the meaning. Let us call the two records strands o f represen
tations (i.e. “dynamic vitality strand” and “content-m odality
strand”). (These strands would metaphorically be at the level of
psychology. In neural terms, these would be overlapping neural
networks.)
The suggestion of this book is that the dynamic vitality strand
is the m ost fundam ental and prim ary. The content m odality
stran d m ust be encoded along or aro u n d (so to speak) the
dynamic vitality strand. The content strand takes on its phenom
enal form and appears to us only when it is twisted around the
dynamic vitality strand. This is more than just “embodiment.”
W ithout the dynam ic vitality strand, the content m odality
record would be digital and would never take on the analogic,
dynamic flow of hum an activity. There would be no flow, no
vitality, and no aliveness. (All of this is at times easier to imagine
when thinking in strands and at other times easier to envisage
when thinking in overlapping and reentering neural networks.)
| FORMS OF VITALITY
Disentangling vitality forms from sensations

Vitality forms are modality non-specific. They belong to no one
sensory m odality b ut to all (vision, audition, touch, etc.). One
could even imagine th at in addition to the usual five sensory
m odalities there is a sixth - a m odality of “dynamics vitality
form s” that senses the duration, speed, and tim e-shape o f the
force making up felt events. I shall not go so far because it would
require that an amodal sensory modality join the other sensory
modalities, which does not quite make sense. Nonetheless, this
rejected idea captures the situation, and will reappear.
Traditionally, sensations are modality specific. They originate
from specific sense organs in the body and are treated in known
loci in the brain. Vitality forms have no specific sense organ or
brain locus. They would appear to arise from m any parts of the
brain simultaneously.
However, are vitality forms truly meta-modal? The question
brings up the ancient problem of w hether there are universal
senses that are evident in all modalities. Lawrence Marks (1978)
has written an overview of this issue. His review from Aristotle
th ro u g h Galileo to con tem p o rary th in k ers lists the supra-
sensory attributes from all of these philosophical sources. The
lists contain several spatial items (shape, space, extension in
space, form), several tem poral elements (mostly duration), plus
intensity (magnitude), m otion, rest, num ber, unity, brightness,
and hedonic tone. The m ost frequently m entioned are intensity
(on all lists), tem poral features, and spatial features (on almost
all lists). The attributes that we ascribe to vitality forms accord
with these traditional lists.
M arks also asks w hether supra-m odal form s arising from
corresponding senses can be interpreted as manifestations of a
general, perhaps m ore “prim itive sensibility.” However, what
m ight such a prim itive sensibility be? One way to tackle this
question is to consider it from the phenom enological view

point. Subjectively, there seems to be a “super-Gestalt” of force,
m otion, tim e, space, and intentionality all com bined to make
emerge a dynam ic form o f vitality - a basic pan-m odal p h e
nom enon in the form of a fundam ental dynamic pentad.
K urth’s (1925) notion of music as a state of m otion (psycho
logically) is pertinent. For him, harm onic progressions are seen
as the “constant surging up of energy into the phenom enal
w orld in term s o f felt m otion” (Hsu, 1966). And likewise for
rhythm s. This is obviously true for dance and for “m o tio n ”
pictures (see C hapter 5). The fundam ental role of m ovem ent
for living organisms becomes m ore and m ore evident.
Ultimately, we shall need a m ore elaborated categorization, a
typology o f the m any different types o f form s of vitality th at
arise in our subjective life. To advance, we m ay need a multiple
approach combining neuroscience, phenomenology, and some
ideas from the w orld of the arts with its particular perspective
on dynamic forms and vitality dynamics.
Disentangling vitality forms from emotions

Vitality form s are n o t the same as em otions. Em otion is only
one of the possible contents that can be shaped into the dynamic
experience of a form o f vitality. We usually think o f emotions
as containing at least three aspects: first, a felt quality such as
angry(ness) or joyful(ness); secondly, characteristic action ten
dencies and specific m otor patterns (including facial expres
sion); an d th ird ly , th e dynam ic aspects o f its arising a n d
enactment. In other words, what we usually m ean by an em o
tion consists of the coming together of a vitality form (which
provides the force and the tem poral shape) with a specific em o
tion (which provides the direction, goal, felt quality, and action
tendencies). There is m uch confusion on this point because we
FORMS OF VITALITY
usually feel the quality and action tendencies of an em otion and

the dynamic vitality form together as if they were one unitary
experience, but not always.2
Thom pson (1994) grasps this situation as follows: “W e call
these response features (the tem poral and intensive features)
em otion dynamics because, while the discrete em otion (e.g.
joy) m ay ‘play the tune’ of an individual’s response, em otion
dynam ics (like the dynam ic m arkings on a m usical score)
significantly influence quality, intensity, timing, and m odula
tion and thus significantly color emotionality” (p. 48).
A lthough em otions m u st be shaped into dynam ic vitality
forms to give emotions their final expression, the dynamics are
not a feature belonging to a particular emotion. I return to the
example that anger can “explode,” “ooze out,” “sneak up,” or be
“cold.” These four different vitality form s do n o t belong to
anger alone. M ost often we feel the amalgam of a type of em o
tion plus a vitality form as if they were one event, even though
they result from the coupling of separate phenom ena that use
different neural pathways.
Nonetheless, everyone agrees th at a dynamic dim ension is
present in em otions and em otional feelings. A full concept of
emotions cannot do w ithout physiological arousal and neuro
logical activation arising from subcortical areas of the brain.
Accordingly, em otions necessarily also becom e dynamically
enacted. However, emotions are not vitality forms.
As a piece o f com m unication to others, a smile or baring the
teeth, if performed without a vitality form, would only be a con
ventional sign. It would lack the full signature of its force and
nuanced tem poral enactment for it to be a real-life comm unica
tive act fashioned for that m om ent and containing aliveness. It
w ould n o t be em bodied in the richest sense o f th a t term . In
short, vitality forms are different from emotions in their nature,
feel, non-specificity, omnipresence, and neurobiology.
Levels of organization of the concept "forms of

vitality"
H ow do we go a b o u t reo rg a n iz in g frag m en ted pieces o f
knowledge so that they become holistic perceptions? At times
the reductive sciences can take apart a w ristw atch to better
understand its workings, but then cannot p u t it back together
again so that it works. Are we there with some questions?
At one pole o f th o u g h t it is suggested th at, w hen needed,
we p u t together our perceived w orld by bringing and fitting
together the m any diverse pieces of what we know separately,
(e.g. recognizing a familiar face by assembling the m any known
elem ents th a t constitute it) . At the extrem e this w ould be a
constructivist model.
At the other extreme, a strict holistic view would suggest that
some pieces of separate diverse knowledge are innately assem
bled for direct im m ediate use together as a unit. If so, there
m ust be some form o f pre-construction of parts of ou r world
directly perceived as wholes. Gestalt phenom ena w ork in this
way so that illusions of a whole new larger integrated pattern
appear while only two unrelated discrete perceptions have been
p u t in relation.
Earlier thinkers relied on notions o f innate ideas and prim al
(original) phantasies to explain different complex constella
tions of behavior and thought.
The great advantage of holistic experience is its directness,
which implies greater speed and efficiency. The disadvantages
are a loss of flexibility and size of possible patterns.
W h at w ould a m ore holistically endow ed w orld be like?
How complex can these Gestalts be? How m any parts can they
integrate? W e do not know.
The idea of forms o f vitality is a sort of compromise solution.
W e know o f m any G estalt-like events even on the first day
FORMS OF VITALITY
Table 2.1 Organizational level of dynamic experience

Level of organization Dynamic terms
1, Physical stimuli Physical dynamics
2. Neuronal Neuronal dynamics
3. Psychological/subjective Vitality dynamics
4. Elaborated psychological (e.g. emotions, perceptions, etc.)
of life. W hen a newborn hears a sound, he turns his head towards

the source so th at he can see it, thus integrating two patterns
that are n o t tied together reflexively. A larger, m ore complex
perceptual field emerges for him.
The idea of vitality forms is an extension of holistic thinking.
It posits that four different components are directly integrated
into one whole, a form of vitality. Further, such vitality forms
provide the basis of ou r m ost daily encounters w ith hum an
behavior.3
Vitality form s accom plish two other functions. They unite
the elements that p u t flesh on experience so that it is felt and
seen as coming from a living person existing in our real daily
world - someone who moves in time and space, and with force
and direction.
Forms of vitality are not directly based on physical nature. Yet
they correspond w ith realities in n atu re th a t m ay n o t exist
independent of the mind. This is because our m inds tend to see
dynamic events in term s o f vitality forms w hether they come
from nature, self, or other humans. The dialogue between exter
nal and subjective reality never stops (Merleau-Ponty, 1962).
NATURE AND THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK OF DYNAMIC "FORMS OF VITALITY'
Notes
1. Take, for example, brightness. You walk into a dark room and all of a sudden
all the lights go on and flood the space. The stimulus is instantaneous, but the
arousal shifts will take a second or more to play out, so a dynamic form
emerges afterward. The same would be true for color, or for a static picture or
photograph. The narrative of what one sees in a static visual display takes time
to create. The eyes have to travel over the static picture to take it in. That takes
time, and the eye-tracking voyage is not likely to be even and smooth from the
point of view of micro-shifts in arousal. Also static visual forms, colors in
particular, imply motion. W arm colors (like red) come forward, and cool
colors (like blue) recede. Next to each other, they pull apart in the third
dimension. Paul Klee said that “color has always had something secretive
about it that is difficult to grasp. This mysterious quality penetrates the mind.
The colors are the most irrational elements in painting. They possess
something suggestive, ‘a suggestive power’” (Petitpierre, 1957, p. 19). They are
like a force that acts on you. Curves “move” smoothly and gracefully, whereas
sharp angles “move” jaggedly. Vertical and horizontal lines “hold” the
.observer in virtual space differentiy than diagonals, and so on (see Werner in
Chapter 3).
2. There is disagreement about what emotions are to begin with. Many
definitions abound (e.g. Panksepp, 1998; Frijda & Zeelenberg, 2001). In any
event, the discreet emotions have been far more studied than the dynamic
features of experience. Rather than put vitality forms into an over-enlarged
category of “emotion” as most thinkers have, I would opt for creating a field
of study devoted to feelings in the largest sense of the word. This would
include affective feelings, and background feelings, and dynamic forms of
vitality, plus possible others.
3. I shall not take up the issue of the role of consciousness. Damasio (1999) has
written extensively on the leap from emotion to feeling, a leap that both
requires and creates consciousness. This could happen for some vitality forms,
b ut need not.
Chapter 3
Ideas from Psychology and

Behavioral Science Leading
to Dynamic Forms of Vitality
Psychology and the behavioral sciences have m ade repeated

attem pts to u n derstand vitality form s. This book is another
such effort. I shall jum p into the historical flow late, at the begin
ning o f the twentieth century. Two cardinal ideas were coming
into their own at th at tim e, nam ely psychoanalysis and p h e
nomenology. These will be briefly discussed as their influence
and insights have trailed from the end of the nineteenth century
into the beginning of the twenty-first century. I shall then pick
up the story from the 1940s to the present.
This highly selective account is not m eant to be com prehen
sive, b u t rather it follows the m ain influences on this book. Also
this account focuses as tightly as possible on the issues of the
dynam ic features o f subjective experience involving vitality
forms, leaving accounts of other work incomplete or absent.
Psychoanalysis plays a crucial role because of F reud’s basic
assum ption that “psychic energy” drove the psychic apparatus.
W ith just that, we are immediately plunged into the dynamics
of experience. Freud saw psychic energy as a kind o f transfor
m ation of som atic energy, n o t totally different from the vital
force o f the earlier doctrine of vitalism. Once Freud postulated
psychic energy, he had to deal w ith the dynam ic aspects o f
experiences that were energy driven. He thus spoke o f forces -
the “pressure” of the drives, o f being “impelled,” o f the push
34 FORMS OF VITALITY
and pull o f m otivations, o f forces being countered, blocked,

displaced, p u sh e d dow n, rising back up, and leaking out.
All of these notions are in the prevailing m etaphoric language
o f hydrodynam ics. At tim es, this hydrodynam ic m odel was
only metaphoric, while at other times it was reified and used as
explanatory.
D ynam ic term in o lo g y becam e the currency for psycho
dynam ic theorizing. It was all about energy and forces. The
language of defenses, conflicts, symptom formation, and drives
was the clinical language o f vitality dynam ics. It captured,
at least in m etaphoric term s, what m any experiences felt like,
(the “rising u p ” o f em otions, etc.). It was both experience—
near and abstract. This language is still w ith us as m etaphors,
b ut no longer as a scientific explanation.
The relative decline of interest in psychoanalysis over the past
few decades, along with the rise o f the neurosciences and the
cognitive revolution, has left a partial vacuum. The dynamic
features of experience have stopped being so active an area of
study. We are left only with the m etaphors for felt experience,
but that is still important.
A nother m ajor idea taking form at the tu rn of the twentieth
century was phenomenology, which provides an account of the
subjective world experienced as it is lived, pre-theoretically and
pre-reflectively. The subjective, phenom enal world is whatever
is passing across the “m ental stage” right now. It does not con
cern itself with how the scene got on to the m ental stage, nor
why it got there, nor when, nor whether it is “real” in any objec
tive sense. This current of philosophy is relevant because it cir
cumscribes what subjective experience is, and what it is not. It
provides a starting place to look for vitality forms or the feel of
being alive. W illiam James (1890), Edm ond Husserl (1964),
and M aurice M erleau-Ponty (1962) are the m ost influential
thinkers on phenomenology in this present work.
IDEAS FROM PSYCHOLOGY AND BEHAVIORAL SCIENCE
James states that the sense of “activity” is synonymous w ith

the sense of “life,” in the “broadest and vaguest way.” By “activ
ity,” he means that the word “activity” has no imaginable con
tent except the experiences of process, of obstruction, striving,
strain, or release. He also finds that these processes are in con
stant change. They are operating all the time to m aintain a level
o f vitality th a t fluctuates. W ith in this fram ew ork, vitality
dynam ics are crucial for a sense o f being alive. P u t m ore
strongly, the dynamic aspects of experience are what “aliveness”
is about.
Jumping from these classic texts to the m id-tw entieth centu
ry, Heinz W erner with his collaborators began in the 1940s to
explore a “sensory-tonic field theory of perception” (W erner,
1940; W erner & W apner, 1949; W erner & Kaplan, 1963). They
suggested th at the different senses are undifferentiated at the
beginning of life, when a more general and primitive sensibility
prevails. C ross-m odal m erging and synesthesias (e.g. feeling
different types of touch when hearing different notes, or seeing
the color red when hearing the sound of a trum pet) are initially
m ore com m on in infancy, and in fact are the norm (in any case
these mergings are phenomenally “real”). Developmentally, the
modalities first cross over, mix, and merge m ore freely. Only
later are the separate modalities sharply differentiated from one
another.
M ore recent research by m any has repeatedly dem onstrated
the cross-m odal capacities o f infants, in particular neonates
(e.g. M e ltz o ff & M oore, 1977; M eltzo ff & B o rto n , 1979;
K um gium utzakis, 1985; M eltzoff & G opnik, 1993; Kaye &
Bower, 1994; Nadel & Butterworth, 1999; Rochat, 1999). Such
findings are suggestive of W erner’s views b u t not proof. This
research has n o t yet singled out the problem of the dynam ic
features in im itatio n , although they m ust be there at som e
developmental point.
FORMS OF VITALITY
W erner and colleagues further postulated th at there was a

general bodily response to stimuli, including changes in m uscu
lar tonus and arousal/activation. These global responses taken
together comprise the “sensory-tonic” dynamic field of experi
ence. For instance, a jagged, saw-toothed line is associated with
or ap prehended as anger, strength, vigor, and im patience,
whereas a progressively curved line is associated w ith gentle
ness, grace, and sm oothness (L undholm , 1921, qu o ted in
W erner & Kaplan, 1963, p. 338). They are essentially describing
arousal profiles and vitality form s w ithout nam ing them as
these. They placed the dynamics o f arousal into an essential
position in felt experience.
Apropos the notions of W erner, it is notew orthy that, very
recently, n e u ro sc ien tists have fo u n d evidence suggesting
th at m any neu ro n s th ro u g h o u t the b rain are m ultisensory.
They respond to stim uli from m ore than a single sense. Such
m ultisensory neurons exist even in brain areas thought to be
devoted to only one sensory modality (Ghazanfar & Schroeder,
2006; Stein & Stanford, 2008). These findings suggest th a t
there is multisensory integration very early in cortical process
ing. They also throw into question the prevailing view that some
cortical areas are exclusively devoted to one sensory m odal
ity. This m ight lead to a fairly radical rethinking of functional
neuroanatomy.
Stein and Stanford state that, at least in neonatal kittens,
m ultisensory neurons exist th at are incapable of integrating
senses until later when they have had more cross-modal experi
ence. It is not unusual in development for capacities to operate
very early on, and then disappear, only to reappear later, b u t
organized differently. This appears to be the case for early im ita
tion (Maratos, 1973; Kumgiumutzakis, 1985, 1998). The devel
opmental story of multisensory integration in hum ans is not yet
known. In any event, these recent findings are in line with some
of W erner’s ideas and m ay help to clarify the “m ultim odality”

of dynamic forms of vitality.
W erner and Kaplan went further and suggested linking these
dynamic holistic responses to the emergence o f symbols. They
called this “physiognom ic perception.” It was an attem pt to
bring symbol form ation and language into relation w ith the
dynamics of felt experience. It was also an attem pt to put felt
experience at the interface of neuroscience and language, as
Langer had done.
In a different vein, the philosopher Susanne Langer (1953,
1969-1972) described w hat she called “forms of feeling.” She
coined this term to capture the m any feelings evoked by music
(and life), such as “fading, exulting, easiness, rushing,” that do
not fall into the usual categories of emotions, nor belong to any
particular act or action. The basic notion of vitality dynamics
has long been inspired by her work. She placed feelings and
their dynamic forms at the interface between the narrative and
the physiological. I am avoiding the term “feelings” because of
its close association with emotions. Instead, I am placing vital
ity forms at that interface.
Sylvan Tompkins (1962, 1995) approached the same general
problem addressed by W erner and Kaplan (1963) and Langer
(1953, 1969-1972) from a different perspective. He suggested
th at interest and excitem ent (arousal functions) are separate
states from the positive emotions, at least. This separating out of
arousal from em otional experience is exactly the point we are
re-emphasizing. This aspect o f his work is less quoted than his
ideas on the pre-program m ing o f a linkage betw een specific
stimuli and specific basic emotions.
Even when discussing innateness, his m ajor concern was the
pre-program m ed relationship of stimulus intensity and timing
to arousal and then to emotion. Tompkins linked the evocation
o f surprise to a particular intensity and rise tim e o f arousal.
FORMS OF VITALITY
A rap id increase in the am plitude o f a sou n d (a “physical

dynamic”) will produce a rapid increase in the patterns of neu
ral firing (our neuronal dynamics), which will produce surprise
(a specific em otion for Tompkins, rather than a form of vitality
plus an emotion). It is this that he saw as innate.
Tom pkins’ work gives arousal a central role in the emergence
of the dynam ic features o f experience. He did n o t take into
account arousal-related dynamic experiences except under the
rubric of emotion. We extend them to include almost all kinds
of experience.
W erner, Langer, and Tompkins are perhaps the m odern pio
neers who explored the dynamic feel of experience.
Ray B irdw histell (1970), A1 Scheflen (1973), and A dam
Kendon (1994) have been am ong the leading pioneers in the
field of kinesics, beginning in the 1950s. They have given us the
concepts and language to deal with the social acts o f everyday
life (e.g. movements at the dinner table and around the house,
greetings, kissings, b irth d ay parties), all in ordinary, non-
experimental, unscripted settings. Their work paved the way for
microanalytic description, which included dynamic features.
It revealed the huge variety of experiences seen in spontaneous
interactions (so m any of them unnameable). In addition, they
made it clear that dynamic features had to be taken into account to
describe the almost unlimited nuances of expression in everyday
life. This reinforced the idea that, ultimately, research has to
take into account events that arise in spontaneous, natural set
tings, even w hen experim ental procedures are com prom ised
and where m any events are not categorizable in the prevailing
academic lexicon.
This kind of free-range observation revealed to what extent
these expressions were socially and culturally composed, and in
so doing, inform ed fields of cross-cultural studies. Their work
also brought attention to the dom ain of m ovement and action,
IDEAS FROM PSYCHOLOGY AND BEHAVIORAL SCIENCE |
w hich at th e tim e h a d been largely left by the wayside in

th e e n th u sia sm fo r lin g u istica lly c a rrie d psy ch o an aly tic
meanings.
D uring the decade of the 1970s, Ekman, Friesen, and their
collaborators revisited D arw in’s works 100 years after their
publication. In a sense, they ushered in the m odern epoch of
the behavioral study o f emotions, particularly with Ekman and
Friesen’s studies on the coding o f facial expressions (1976,
1978). Their initial task was to describe systematically the facial
expressions o f the Darwinian emotions. They chose to focus on
the m ovem ents o f the facial muscles, thus providing an ana
tom ical base for a scoring system (the Facial A ction Coding
System, FACS). While focusing on the anatomical they paid far
less attention to the dynamic, b u t were fully aware of its ongo
ing presence. Their reason for focusing on anatom y was that it
was where Darwin focused. In addition, as they state, system
atic studies o f dynamic features are enormously time consum
ing and costly. Therefore their coding system looked for each
u n it of m ovem ent o f the separate muscle groups involved in
facial expression, and then treated them as a series of p h o to
g rap h s w here th ey c o u ld score th e a n a to m ic a l changes.
Frequency and tim e o f onset were all that was needed to fix a
given change in anatomy. A description of the entire contour
was not needed for that. The choice of privileging categorical
anatom ic form s over dynamic forms was appropriate for the
creation of a coding system.
However, that is not the end o f the story. They also turned to
exam ine dynam ic features. One of the five aspects o f facial
movements they scored for was timing.
O nset tim e, the span between the start o f each action u n it and w hen it
reaches apex, apex tim e, the period o f m axim um excursion, an d offset
tim e, the span betw een th e end o f apex a n d th e disappearance o f an
action unit, can all be m easured. A dditionally, w hether the onset, the
apex and the offset are sm ooth o r irregular can be scored. All o f the
FORMS OF VITALITY
action units th a t appear to m ake up a single expression do n o t always

have the same onset, apex and offset timing.
Ekm an & Friesen (1982, p. 242)
These parameters, when translated into subjective terms, come

close to describing dynamic vitality forms. However, they only
give a skeletal description and only describe events th at have
one up-dow n, crescendo-decrescendo movement.
W ith this in m ind, they w ent on to show th at false versus
au th en tic smiles could be distinguished by th eir dynam ic
features, namely duration (longer for false smiles), time to onset
(either shorter or longer), apex duration (too long), and offset
time (too short and abrupt or irregular, not smooth).
The success of the anatomical approach and the FACS set the
field off in a direction w here the dynamic, analogic features
were either left behind or played a secondary role, even though
Ekman and Friesen themselves explored the dynamics of facial
expression in several studies (Ekman & Friesen, 1982; Ekman,
Freisen, & O ’Sullivan, 1988; Ekm an, Friesen, & D avidson,
1990).
M anfred Clynes, a professional pianist and psychologist,
described a field of “sentics” (Clynes, 1973; Clynes & Nettheim,
1982). Among other things, he differentiated the different ways
that a finger can touch the key of a piano, and how the emotion
in the pianist and listener were affected by the form o f touch
and the co rresponding so u n d released. In essence, he was
describing something very like vitality forms, but classed them
under the rubric o f emotions.
M y own preoccupation w ith the dynam ic form s o f vitality
began with observations o f m other-infant interactions, where
the dynam ic features o f early hum an exchanges jum p out in
high relief because there is little going on linguistically to dis
tract focus from the non-verbal (Stern, 1971, 1977). The term
“vitality affects” was first coined in this context (Stern, 1985).

An im p o rta n t observation was w hat m others do w hen they
want to show the baby they understand or share what the baby
is felling. Here is an example.
A ten -m o n th -o ld girl is seated o n the floor facing h e r m other. She is
trying to get a piece o f puzzle in to its right place. A fter m any failures
she finally gets it. She th en looks up into her m other’s face w ith delight
and an explosion o f enthusiasm . She "opens up h er face” [her m o u th
opens, her eyes w iden, h er eyebrows rise] and th en closes back down.
The tim e co n to u r o f these changes can be described as a sm ooth arch
[a crescendo, high point, decrescendo]. A t the same tim e her arm s rise
and fall at her sides. M other responds by intoning, “Yeah” w ith a pitch
line th a t rises an d falls as the volum e crescendos an d decrescendos:
“yeeAAAaahh.” The m o th e r’s pro so d ic co n to u r m atches th e child’s
facial-kinetic contour. They also have the exact same duration.
Stern (1985, p. 140)
W hat else could the m other have done to let her daughter know
that she understood and shared the baby’s excitement and joy
at that moment? The m other cannot just say, “Oh I know how
you felt. I do know how th at feels.” After all, the girl is only
10 m onths old and w ould n o t understand. Alternatively, the
m other could im itate w hat the girl did, i.e. open up her own
face and then close it down in a fairly faithful im itation of what
the girl did. However, there is a different problem with this. The
girl could say to herself (so to speak) “OK, you know w hat
I did, physically. But how can I know that you know what it felt
like to do what I did? You could be a m irror, or a M artian. How
do I know you even have a mind?” The m other resolved this by
doing a selective im itation, an “affect attunem ent.” She switched
to a different m odality (from seen action to heard sound), but
she kept the dynamic features faithfully, i.e. there was a m atch
ing of the vitality form. She shared the dynamics of the form but
n o t the m odality. The girl then understood th at her m other
was n o t just im itating, b u t th at som ething similar was in the
FORMS OF VITALITY
m other’s known experience and was sharable between the two.

The m atch thus becomes a match of internal feeling states, not
overt behaviors. Some sense of m utual understanding has been
established.
“Affect a ttu n e m e n t” is based on m atch in g a n d sharing
dynam ic form s o f vitality, b u t across different m odalities.
Its frequent use permits a m other to create a degree of intersub
jectivity higher th an faithful im itation. At th a t p o in t in the
research, I was prim arily interested in the development of inter
subjectivity and its clinical role in developm ent. Because the
phenom enon first appeared to us in the m other-infant dyads,
it m ade me aware o f the parallel between the vitality dynamics
and the “vital” functions in babies. Despite this, vitality dynam
ics were never m eant to have their conceptual roots in early life
support vital functions. Moreover, they do not.
Later, vitality dynamics were revisited, b ut within the context
of examining the “present m om ent” of experience, the “now”
(Stern, 2004). This leads to a greater emphasis on tem poral
dynamic features. It was suggested that dynamic events were
the subjective backbone of the feeling o f being in a present
m oment. In addition, present moments were designated as the
unit in which m any varied sequential events were grasped into
one global “take” of consciousness. In this way, dynamic events
play a part in the creation of consciousness. These shifts in con
text have entailed relatively m inor remodeling of concepts.
Now, however, the introduction of the term “dynamic forms of
vitality” signals a conceptual enlargement. Vitality forms are seen
more clearly as a Gestalt, a subjective phenomenon. Force, motion,
aliveness, space, and content have been added to temporal con
tour and intensity (force). Vitality forms are the overarching con
cepts for the previous terms. It is a more global, holistic grasp.
A w ord about terms. Traditionally, emotions are designated
as emotions or affects, except w hen they becom e reflectively
conscious and usually linked with language, at which point they

become feelings. This distinction is from Damasio (1999). I shall
not, however, enter into the discussion of the role of conscious
ness in vitality forms, as it would take us elsewhere.
I shall continue to use the term “affect attunem ent.” This is
m eant to be the same as matching of vitality forms. However, as
“affect attunem ent” is now widely used, we shall keep it.
Intersubjectivity has becom e a topic o f great interest and
activity, in particular its developm ental course and value for
clinical practice (e.g. Trevarthen &Hubley, 1978; Reddy, 1991;
W hiten, 1991; Tomasello, Savage-Rumbaugh, & Kruger, 1993;
Nadel & Butterworth, 1999; Hobson, 2002; Rochat, 2009). By
intersubjectivity, I m ean the sharing o f another’s experience.
There are different degrees of sharing, namely “one-way” shar
ing (e.g. “I know (or feel) th at you know (or feel) . . . ”), and
“two-way” sharing (e.g. “I know that you know that I k n o w ...”).
In ad d itio n , there are different subject m atters th a t can be
shared, such as the c o n te n t o f language co m m unications,
emotions, and vitality forms. Among the three, the sharing of
an o th er’s vitality form s is probably the earliest, easiest, and
m ost direct path into another’s subjective experience.
Three different researchers, selected among many, have adopted
slightly different approaches to the developmental problem of
intersubjectivity, nam ely Colwyn Trevarthen (1998), Andrew
M eltzoff (Meltzoff & Gopnik, 1993), and myself (Stern, 1985).
Beatrice Beebe (Beebe e ta l, 2005a) has reviewed the differences
among these three in detail. Meltzoff has focused largely on im i
tation and Trevarthen on synchrony, and I have focused largely
on the “affect a ttu n e m e n t” o f dynam ic form s. A ny act has
parameters of all these - shape (or form), timing, and intensity.
One could say th at M eltzoff has entered the problem m ainly
through shape and goal, Trevarthen through timing, and myself
through tim e-intensity matching. Despite these differences, all
FORMS OF VITALITY
three consider the dynamic features as central for intersubjec

tivity, as does the work of Braten (1998, 2007) and others.
The concept of dynamic vitality forms brings together four
converging lines o f thought, nam ely inter subjectivity, cross-
and m eta-m odality, the dynamic features of experience, and a
phenomenological focus on subjectivity.
The work of Thom pson (1994) considers the dynamic features
of emotional experience in the light of “emotion regulation.” In
this context he includes intensity, persistence, m odulation,
onset, rise time, range, and recovery time (i.e. most of the basic
parameters of forms of vitality). It is im portant to bear in m ind
that Thompson is speaking of general arousal as seen during emo
tional states. This permits him to speak of “emotion dynamics.”
It is clear that the qualitative and dynamic aspects of emotions
are tightly bound together: “ ... the subcortical and cortical sys
tem s influencing em otional arousal are m utually in terco n
nected and are intimately linked with other neurophysiological
systems, including those governing cognition and vegetative
regulation ...” (1994, p. 30).
Thom pson advances our appreciation o f vitality dynamics.
However, two questions rem ain largely unresolved. Does n ot
specific and general arousal also occur outside of em otional
experience, and what shall we call such experience, if not some
thing like dynamic forms of vitality? Secondly, can appraisal proc
esses apply to the regulation of vitality dynamics that are unrelated
to emotions? Thompson suggests that they can, as we do.
M ore recently, Damasio (1999) has described “background
feelings” and the “feeling of what is happening.” These feelings
largely concern emotions and sensations from changes and per
turbations in the inner state of the organism, including changes in
functioning of smooth muscle and that of the striated muscles of
the heart and chest, the chemical profile of the internal milieu as
it concerns homeostasis, drives, and motivations. Damasio (1999)
also includes dynamic experiences (e.g. going from slow to fast,

or from a sharp focus to a vague one), but ultimately considers
these changes to be “an integral part o f em otions” (p. 282). He
conceives background feelings as an extension of emotions or
sensations.
Sensations from the viscera, muscles, entire body, and m ind
together form background feelings th at report on the organ
ism’s internal state at that time - on “the general physical tone
o f o u r being” (D am asio, 1999, p. 286), be it contentm ent,
tension, feeling “not quite right,” etc. These sensings m ost often
rem ain out o f conscious awareness, b u t can also be brought
into consciousness, where they become feelings and are verbal-
izable (but only approximately). Damasio (1999) gives the fol
lowing examples: “fatigue; energy; excitement, wellness; sickness;
tension; relaxation; surging; dragging; stability; instability; bal
ance; imbalance; harmony; discord” (p. 286). (I have italicized
the feeling states that could have been included on the list of
vitality dynamics that opens Chapter 1.)
Background feelings are co-extensive with vitality dynamics.
Both track ongoing processes, or flows, where a “piece of the
flow” can, b u t heed n o t be, isolated for special treatm en t.
However, there are im portant differences. Damasio conceives
of background feelings as belonging to the domains of em otion
and sensation. I conceive of vitality dynamics as belonging to
no one dom ain, b u t present in all domains, which also means
they can be independent of em otion and sensation. Background
feelings refer m ore to the overall feel of the well functioning and
changes in the inner state o f the system at a given m om ent.
Vitality dynamics refer m ainly to the shifts in forces felt to be
acting during an event in m otion, and thus focus m ore on the
dynamic qualities of the experience, in particular the profile of
th e f lu c tu a tio n s in e x c ite m e n t, in te re s t, a n d aliveness.
Background feelings are about the “feeling of what happens.”
FORMS OF VITALITY
Vitality dynamics are about the “feel” of being alive and full of
vitality. Clearly, b o th are needed. The distinction, however,
is worthwhile, as the neural mechanism s subserving each are
likely to be different.
Psychoanalytically oriented thinkers have also described
dynam ic form s in their work. The ideas o f Genevieve Haag
(1991,2006) on the “representation of forms” are highly pertinent,
as are those of Francis Tustin’s (1990) notion of “autistic shapes.”
Ideas and findings from the field o f m usic perception have
come unexpectedly close to the concerns of this book. Recent
studies have looked at the association between musical param e
ters and images of physical space and bodily m otion (see Eitan &
Granot, 2006, for a review). There is one m ajor question. Are
musical changes (in amplitude, pitch contour, pitch intervals,
attack rate, articulation, and tem po) associated w ith hum an
movements in space (type of movement, direction, pace, etc.)?
Indeed they are. For instance, “a crescendo both approaches
and accelerates motion; a pitch fall moves downwards, leftward
and closer; ... listeners rate tempo curves derived from hum an
m otion profiles as m ore m usical and expressive than simple
tem po change” (Eitan & Granot, p. 242). These results are dis
cussed in term s o f “intensity contours” and other am odal or
pan-m odal notions that include m otion in tim e and space. In
effect, they are describing vitality dynamics from a different
starting point.
Similarly, there are studies on the interaction of music with
visual an d k in esth etic stim u li in th e p e rc e p tio n o f dance
(K rum hansl & Schenck, 1997) and film (Bolivar, Cohen, &
Fentress, 1994; Lipscomb & Kendall, 1994). A recent confer
ence on “D ance, tim ing, and m usical gesture” chaired by
Dr Katie Overy (Edinburgh, 13-15 June 2008) made apparent
the long interdigitation and even substitutability of one for the
other, e.g. as seen in north Indian Tihal (Walker, 2008).
Less than two decades ago, the “m irror neuron system” was
described. It was a m ajor discovery (Rizzolatti et a/., 1996;
Gallese, 2001, 2003). The m irror neurons are part of the pre-
fro n ta l m o to r cortex. The basic finding was th a t w hen an
observer watches someone execute a goal-directed action, the
m irror neurons in the observer will fire in the same pattern as if
the observer him self had perform ed the same action. In other
words, the observer has a virtual experience of the actor’s experi
ence. The implications for understanding empathy and identifi
cation and our reactions to artistic performances were evident.
These researchers then found that m irror neurons also worked
for stimuli in other modalities. Therefore if the listener heard,
b u t d id n o t see, a sou n d characteristic of a specific action
(e.g. tearing paper), the listener’s m otor neurons would fire as
if he h ad m ade the sam e tearing action. F urtherm ore, they
showed that when asked to imagine an action, the subject’s m ir
ror neurons fired as if he were executing that action (Gallese,
2001; Rizzolatti etal., 2001). M irror neuron activity is strongly
influenced by local context. In fact, Iacoboni et al. (1999) sug
gest that it is logically related to m otor acts given by context.
However, do m irror neurons apply to the dynamics o f move
m ent, and if so, how? Hobson & Lee (1999) have asked whether
autistic children im itate the “style,” the “expressive quality,”
with which an action is perform ed (i.e. the vitality form of the
action). It is already known that they can imitate m eans-ends
actions. F o u r differen t situ atio n s w ere created w here the
children (autistic and controls) could perform either a delayed
im itation of a m eans-ends action, or the exact vitality form of
the action, or both. For example, in one of the situations the
children watched an experimenter take a pipe rack with ridges
separating compartments for each pipe, and run a wooden stick
across the ridges, making a vibrating sound. The experimenter
did this in tw o different ways (“styles”), either rapidly and
FORMS OF VITALITY
forcefully or m ore slowly and gently. These were the two vitality
forms. After a delay, the children were given the two objects that
they had only seen and heard being used. The n on-autistic
children imitated both the action and its exact dynamic vitality
form. The autistic children imitated the means and goal of the
action, but rarely imitated its vitality form. The authors conclud
ed that the imitation of “style” requires an interpersonal engage
m ent that is impaired in autistic children. The same overall results
are found with other experimental tasks (Hobson, 2002).
How does the central nervous system track and encode vital
ity forms? This problem can be approached in each specific
domain, e.g. a musical phrase as heard, a physical movem ent as
seen or p ro p rio cep ted , a skin pressure p a tte rn as felt, etc.
However, cross-modal transfer of vitality forms presents a more
in trig u in g problem (synesthesias representing an extrem e
example). Clearly, different parts of the brain, anatomically and
functionally, m ust talk to each other and exchange inform a
tion. H obson’s w ork suggests that action (the what) and the
specific “style” (the how ) of the actio n can be separated.
Somehow inform ation about the vitality form is “extractable”
and can be tre a te d by different b rain loci. The exact form
remains a challenge to the neurosciences.
The same problem is seen w hen exam ining the role o f the
m irror neuron system. W e know that actions as m eans-ends
operations are well handled by the m irror neurons. But w hat
about the vitality form s of those actions? The vitality form s
present a different anatomical problem from m eans-ends action
in m apping another’s action to virtual action in the self.1
Only part of the m irror neuron system is understood. Could
some of the unknow n part be responsible for dealing with the
dynamic experiences of vitality? The full role of the m irror neu
ron system remains to be seen, and is likely to be larger than we
originally thought.
Gallese & Lakoff (2005) partially answer the question and

take the situation to another theoretical level. This jum p is
based on their previous work (Lakoff & Johnson, 1980, 1999;
Gallese, 2003). They suggest th at the sensory m o to r system,
including the m irro r n eu ro n system, is phylogenetically an
ancient system. It has m ultim odal capacities to receive input
from the other modalities (hearing, vision, and touch), which
are then integrated w ith the original sensory and m otor func
tions. Thus there is no need for a “Cartesian theater” (Damasio,
1994), a sort o f “th ird place” (e.g. “association area”) in the
b rain w here th e in fo rm atio n from the separate m odules is
replayed and integrated. Instead, this integration occurs in the
sensorim otor system. This suggestion has sim ilarities to the
idea o f a vitality form arising as an emergent property or Gestalt
from different sources, except th at they suggest w here this
emergence m ay occur. In any event, a dynamic representation
of all stim uli is the prim ary and fundam ental layer o f experi
ence. In addition, those stimuli belonging to content-m odality
aspects of experience are layered on top o f the fundam ental
dynamic layer.
Gallese and Lakoff take a next step. T hrough a process o f
“neural exploitation,” sensory m otor mechanisms have, during
evolution, taken on new roles in imagining, concept construc
tion, and language. This upsets the traditional view th at con
cepts and language are abstract, symbolic, amodal and arbitrary,
and are assem bled in another “th ird place” (e.g. a language
center). This n o tio n is in line w ith the ideas o f Lakoff and
Johnson. These functions, too, are assembled in the sensori
m otor system, and in this way become “embodied.”
W here then are the vitality forms in these proposals? Gallese
and Lakoff ask how the various conceptual relationships are
realized neurally. The authors suggest that for any kind of p u r
poseful action there are three different requirem ents th a t are
FORMS OF VITALITY
m et by three different clusters o f neurons. The first indicates

the general purp o se o f the action (grasp, push, pull, etc.).
A second cluster specifies the “m anner” in which the action is to
be executed (e.g. index finger and thum b, or whole hand, etc.).
It is here that vitality dynamics should come up. However, vitality
forms are not included in “m anner.” A third cluster specifies the
temporal phases in which the action is sequenced. These sequenc
es are treated as distinct phases rather than as analogic wholes.
All of the above concerns purposeful action, but also applies to
the images produced in sim ulating another’s behavior. Real
m otion and imagined m otion follow the same descriptive rules.
An opening for vitality forms seems to appear when Gallese
and Lakoff (2005) describe the “param eters” th a t influence
m otor programs. The first param eter concerns the level of force
(one of the major concerns for vitality). Neurally, force is deter
m ined by the level of activation of the neurons or the num ber
of neurons activated. The system as they describe it works like
the shifting gears in a car. The example is the gait of a cat. W hen
the neurons fire at low frequency (a low value), the cat will
strut. W hen the frequency increases above a certain value, the
cat will break into a trot. W hen the frequency becomes even
higher, the cat will gallop. These are discontinuous shifts in
m otor programs, based on defined thresholds of frequency.
However, there are m any kinds of struts and m any possible
vitality form s w ithin the same frequency range for strutting.
The above system could account for various vitality forms while
rem aining w ithin the frequency range o f strutting, such as
accelerating (only up to a certain point without trotting), decel
erating, a slow progression in speed, or a measured slowing as
in “sneaking up,” or a burst that quickly becomes a trot.
Another param eter concerns whether an action is dynamically
and contextually adapted to the current context. This opens
the door wider to the dom ain of vitality dynamics.
Gallese and Lakoff often refer to the dynam ic shaping o f

m ovem ent (real or imagined) as a detail that takes care of itself.
This is not a criticism. They set out on the task of describing the
role o f the sensorim otor system in a variety of basic m ind/body
tasks, which is an impressive undertaking. By analogy to dance,
they describe the workings of the basic units of ballet, the posi
tions, steps, leaps, etc., “the classroom steps.” We, on the other
hand, are describing the dynamic variations on these basic units
that can be subjectively felt and reflect the psychological “forces”
and creative impulses behind the actions.
At this p o in t in the advance o f the neurosciences, vitality
forms are not the first order of business. However, in the longer
term , it cannot be forgotten that w ithout vitality form s there
could n o t be the exquisite fine-tuning o f interpersonal inter
actions, no r creative artistic interpretations. W e w ould also
lose part of w hat makes us feel alive and vital.
There is another fascinating line of research that bears on the
centrality of dynam ic vitality form s in h u m an interaction.
Colwyn Trevarthen has coined the term “communicative musi-
cality” (Trevarthen, 2000; Trevarthen &Malloch, 2002; Malloch
& T revarthen, 2008a and b). “M usicality” does n o t refer to
music as usually thought about, but rather to the duet o f move
ments and sounds between two people expressing motives and
intentional states - a synchronizing o f two people’s behaviors.
This coupling occurs on a scale o f milliseconds and seconds.
This research on synchronizing people’s behavior has a rela
tively short history.
In 1967, C ondon and Ogston published a paper describing
“interactional synchrony” between two adults. Using frame-by-
frame film analysis, they observed that split-second changes in
the m ovem ents of a listener (when the m ovem ent stopped,
started, or changed direction or speed) were synchronized
w ith split-second changes in the sounds m ade by a speaker.
FORMS OF VITALITY
The movement changes in the listener lined up with the speaker’s

changes of phonem es, syllables, words, stresses, and beats. It
was as if one were seeing the “vibes” between people.
Condon & Sander (1974) then reported the same phenomena
in neonates listening to the vocalizations of their mothers. These
findings created a stir, as mechanisms explaining such a tight
coupling were not evident and no theory was in place to address
it. These findings proved difficult to replicate, and the phenom
ena rem ained outside m ainstream research for several decades.
Nonetheless, some researchers picked up the basic notion and
used frame-by-frame m ethods of microanalysis to study “pri
m ary intersubjectivity” betw een m others and infants (Stern,
1971,1977,1985; Trevarthen, 1977,1985; Trevarthen& Hubley,
1978; Beebe, 1982; Beebe et al., 2005b). They found that inter
actional synchrony did indeed seem to apply to some stretches
of the interaction, b u t n o t to all. Such synchrony was n o t an
obligatory continuous event.
More recently, with the advent of more advanced methodologi
cal and mathematical tools (Lee, 2005), interest in the phenomena
has revived. Trevarthen and colleagues have thus introduced the
idea of “communicative musicality” as the basis of sympathy (i.e.
feeling “with,” not empathy, which is feeling “in”).
One of the basic ideas underlying intersubjectivity has been
the long held philosophical notion th at we are b o rn w ith an
“open m ind” and see others as “like m e” (Meltzoff & Gopnik,
1993; Braten, 1998, 2007; H obson, 2002). C om m unicative
musicality changes the “like m e” to “with m e.” A greater em pha
sis is placed on the role o f the intersubjective m atrix as the
material from which the m ind is created (not from an individ
ual m ind’s encounter with the (social) environm ent as another,
separate context).
M ore im m ediately for our purposes here, com m unicative
musicality is largely based on the coupling o f vitality dynamics
betw een people. “M usicality” is com posed o f pulses th at are

form ed by timing, in the rhythmic sense, and its tem poral con
touring, and the deployment of force in time. This is the back
b o n e o f vita lity dynam ics w here “being w ith a n o th e r” is
accomplished by sharing the vitality dynamic flow.2
Various “non-verbal” therapies have had to deal directly with
w hat I am calling vitality form s, or at least b rush up closely
against them . These w ould include, as examples, “focusing-
oriented psychotherapy” (Gendlin, 1996), Gestalt therapies
(Peris, Hefferline, & G oodm an, 1951) and the work o f m any
other Gestaltists over the last 60 years, psychom otor therapy
(Pesso & Crandell, 1991), and music therapies (Wigram, 2004).
Michael Heller (2001) provides an excellent overview o f the
developm ent o f m any o f these body-oriented therapies from
the 1970s through the 1990s, including dance therapy, choreo
graphic therapy, Alexander method, Feldenkrais, and the work
of Downing with infants and parents, and others.
We have benefited from the challenges that these approaches
have taken on, especially their focus on the “feel,” the sense of
experience and its unique occurrence at a precise m om ent.
Nonetheless, overall, vitality dynamics per se are not directly
identified an d conceptualized in these works. The w ork of
Gendlin (1996) well illustrates the situation. Gendlin writes of a
“felt sense,” a “felt gesture” and “felt shifts.” At first glance, this
appears to be confluent with vitality dynamics. However, what
G endlin m eans by a “felt sense” is larger and m ore com plex
than a dynamic form o f vitality. It includes the “felt sense” of a
whole situation, including the em otion(s), and there m ay be
many, the sensations, movements, local physical context, social
context, etc. Indeed, vitality dynamics are an im portant part of
the whole.
In contradistinction, we are trying to tease out from this com
plexity one of its elements (vitality forms) that we believe can be
FORMS OF VITALITY
fruitfully exam ined in the light of recent thinking. However,

such an effort on our part is contrary to the rightful insistence
of Gestaltists that the “felt sense” of the experience should not
be fragm ented. The same w ould apply for Gestalt therapies.
W e w ould agree th a t the “felt sense” o f G endlin should be
m aintained as a whole. It is at a different level of complexity.
However, equally we need to understand the elements o f the
whole, in and o f them selves, some of w hich are lower-level
Gestalts. After all, we do have a field of knowledge about emo
tions, movement, or sensation. We need such a field of knowl
edge about vitality dynamics that need not take away from even
higher holistic views.
Recent findings in the neurosciences have revealed a new pic
ture of arousal as regulated from the brainstem . The work of
Pfaff (2006) and others emphasizes the need to bring the arous
al system into the dialogue on dynamic experience of vitality.
The integrative neuroscience m odel o f “significance process
ing” is a good example of this renewed interest in arousal and its
in te g ra tio n w ith o th e r m en ta l fu n ctio n s (G o rd o n , 2000;
Williams, 2006). These researchers have added time in the form
of a “tem poral continuum m odel” in which the known brain
processes underlying arousal, perception, em otions, m otiva
tions, and cognition are placed in a sequential fashion on a time
dimension measured in milliseconds. In doing so they stress that
“M uch of brain science is focused on the location of structures
and functions, yet effective neural processing relies as m uch, if
not more, on its tem poral organization” (Williams, 2006, p. 2).
Keeping in m ind the key role of arousal and the brainstem for
vitality forms, I shall now tu rn to the studies which suggest that
the arousal systems m ay provide a neuroscientific und erp in
ning for the emergence o f vitality forms.
W ith this review in place, we can now exam ine a possible
neuroscientific dom ain with relevance for vitality forms.
Notes
1. At what level of organization might the distinction between “what” and “how”
collapse? If we wanted to see whether children (normal compared with
autistic) tell the difference between an act with its goal (the “what”) and the
style or dynamic manner in which the act is performed (the “how”), we could
perform the same act (e.g. a reach) in two versions, fast and slow. W hen the
movement is performed slower, the movement appears to be the same act as
the faster version, at least at the organizational level of visually perceived
action patterns. However, at the neuromuscular level, the activation of the
antagonistic muscle groups is different. The balance between activations and
inhibitions overall, i.e. the neuronal firing pattern, is different. Does that
make it a different act - a different “what” - at the organizational level of
neuronal firing and arousal profiles? In other words, at the level of seen
behavior (and presumably vitality dynamics), the difference between the
“what” and the “how” is clear. However, on passing to the level of neuronal
firing patterns, the difference may collapse. The “how” could become
absorbed by the “what.”
2. Communicative musicality adds elements that are not dynamic per se, such as
pitch, although sequences of pitch changes are.
Chapter 4
A Possible Neuroscientific
Basis for Vitality Forms: the
Arousal Systems
The arousal systems provide the felt "force"

of vitality dynamics
W hat m ay be the neuroscientific infrastructure that makes the
experience of vitality forms possible?
Historically, psychology has entertained several candidates to
provide forces w ithin the m ental system that are o f sufficient
strength, speed, and flexibility to be com patible w ith vitality
forms. “Vitalism,” the “psychic energy” of psychoanalysis, the
“drives,” “activated motivational systems,” or emotions and so
on have not m et the required criteria.
W ith the recent advances in the neurosciences, it is becoming
clear th at th e arousal systems fulfill this role in great part.
Arousal satisfies the need for a force for behavior (Tinbergen,
1951; Lorenz, 1981), a force that throws the m otivations (sex,
hunger, attachm ent, etc.) into action, th at triggers the em o
tions, sharpens the attention, starts up cognitions, and initiates
m ovem ent. The centers for m otivation do n o t contain their
own “force.” It comes from the arousal system. The m otivation
centers, such as hunger, for example, provide features other
than force and time, in this example providing the orientation,
selective attention, salience o f perceptions, and specific action
patterns that lead to eating. However, the force or m otor behind
FORMS OF VITALITY
these features, w hich sets them in m o tio n and adjusts their

strength and duration while they act, comes largely from the
arousal system. The same is true for emotions. The neuroscien
tist, Donald Pfaff (2006), states it clearly: “The m ost fundam en
tal force in the nervous system is arousal.”
The im portance o f arousal in providing a dynamic aspect to
experience has long been recognized. In addition, the role of the
arousal-activating systems in the brainstem in changing levels
of arousal has long been know n (M oruzzi & M agoun, 1949;
Lindsley, Bowden, & M agoun, 1949). W e wish to re-explore
this territory in the light of recent discoveries from several fields,
and re-examine its possible implications. The hope is to present
arousal-related experiences in a new light and better u n d e r
stand their contribution to the creation of vitality forms.
However, what is arousal? Dictionaries and scientists agree. To
be aroused is “to be put into m otion” or “stirred up” or “excited
into activity,” physically, mentally, or emotionally. It is synony
mous with “to animate.” In m ore scientific terms, it is the force
behind the initiation, the strength, and the duration of almost
everything we do (Hebb, 1955; Robbins & Everitt, 1996; Pfaff,
2006; Pfaff & Banavar, 2007; Pfaff & Kieffer, 2008). Arousal also
includes, by implication, turning off or turning down the arousal,
calming the excitement, or deactivating the m otion or emotion.
Arousal determines when we do what we do, and the dynamic
manner of doing it. It is well suited to direct vitality forms. Yet the
experience of arousal shifts, particularly micro-shifts, in relation
to short-lived vitality forms has not been explored.
A closer look
The arousal systems have a crucial role in the form ation of
unreflected dynamic experience. Arousal systems can act very
specifically and rapidly, in milliseconds, to elicit a multiplicity of
A POSSIBLE NEUROSCIENTIFIC BASIS FOR VITALITY FORMS
discrete vitality forms, which may be small and fleeting or large

and longer acting. An arousal system is not just a master switch
to regulate the general level of central nervous system activation
(alertness, wakefulness, sleep). The five parallel arousal systems
(plus the general arousal system) are finely differentiated to cre
ate a vast array of different neural firing patterns. They can con
sist of only one of the five systems firing, or any combination of
them , giving multiple possible arousal profiles. Each presum a
bly leads to a different vitality form.
W ith this in m ind, I shall address recent neuroscientific find
ings about the arousal system th at are relevant to the above
suggestions.
Arousal is the “fundam ental force” for all bodily and m ental
activity. Are there no other “sources” of force for th e mind?
Generally speaking, no! (There are biochemical sources of energy
for the brain.) W ithout the support'of the arousal system one
cannot think, feel, perceive, or move voluntarily. At the extreme
of deactivation of arousal, one goes beyond sleep and into coma.
A functional definition from Pfaff follows:
"G eneralized arousal” is higher in an anim al or h u m an b eing w ho is
m ore alert to sensory stim uli o f all sorts, m ore m otorically active, and
m o re reactive em otionally. This is a concrete definition o f th e m ost
fundam ental force in the nervous system. To understand w hat we are
talking about here, consider two analogies. If we were talking about the
geophysics o f the p lan et earth, instead o f the arousal o f the CNS and
behavior, this book w ould be dealing w ith m agm a - the h o t central core
o f the earth whose physical distribution controls the m agnetic field of
the planet. M y second analogy is based o n the prim acy o f tim e. If we
were talking about the astrophysics o f the universe, m y book w ould be
dealing with the Big Bang. (Pfaff, 2006, p. 5)
This powerful system is not only a switch that turns the m ind on
or off, b u t is also like the accelerator in a car. It operates no
m atter what gear the car is in. It is a flexible system providing
(usually) as m uch arousal as is needed for the tasks immediately
FORMS OF VITALITY
at hand. Accordingly the quantity of arousal can and m ust fluctu

ate from moment to moment, in a split second, and with the poten
tial for very wide swings in magnitude to meet sudden dangers and
joys, or needs (such as sleep). It is generally agreed that tasks are
most easily accomplished if the level of arousal is neither too high
(anxiety, panic) nor too low (boredom, inattention, etc.).
There are several arousal systems with different loci of origin
in the brainstem . Each of these acts along different pathways
with different distributions elsewhere in the brain, and each
uses different neurotransm itters. Suffice it to say that all of these
arousal systems are located in the m ore prim itive parts of the
brain from the evolutionary perspective, namely the brainstem,
also functionally called the reticular activating system. Currently,
their connections to the higher brain centers are m ost often
referred to as the “ascending arousal pathways.”
They ascend to the cortex, to the centers for perception, emo
tion, movement, and cognition, and almost all parts o f the brain
where they adjust sensitivity to stimuli, m otoric activity, em o
tional responsivity, and cognitive activity. However, the influ
ence does not flow in only one direction, “up” from brainstem
arousal centers to the higher cortical centers. It also flows “down”
from the cortex and emotion centers to the arousal systems. They
are m utually influencing. M ore accurately, they regulate one
another constantly. The input of arousal, from bottom up, will
determine the strength, duration, rise time, and tem poral shape
of m ental actions, i.e. their dynamic form. Arousal profiles act
in a similar m anner on thoughts, em otions, perceptions, and
movements.
In addition, influence comes from the other direction, top-
down. The input from the cortex and higher centers will deter
m ine in p art the strength, duration, and shape o f the output
from the arousal systems. The two systems can also act alone.
There are cognitive operations that do not require input from
the arousal systems (beyond m aintaining a level of alertness

and body tonicity). In addition, there are m any arousal shifts
th at operate independently o f cognitions and affects, such as
short-term responses (e.g. internal startles, a m om entary arousal
jag), or longer activity-rest cycles.
The narration of subjective experience need not tightly m atch
the neuronal sequences of events. Take the well-known exam
ple of seeing a wild bear in the woods. First, there is the jolt of a
salient novelty, then avoidance flight, and only after that is there
recognition that you saw a bear. This means that the visual cor
tex “saw” (w ithout “truly” seeing) the stim ulus as it entered
the brain on its way to the brainstem . It was recognized only
enough to inform the arousal systems what to do next. It passed
through the brain, b u t in a sense bypassed the mind. It did not
enter awareness. Only after the arousal systems sent a signal
back up to the cortex could the bear be seen phenomenally. As
Zajonc (1980) puts it, “preferences need no inferences.” These
considerations becom e im portant w hen lining up introspec
tive, first-p e rso n experience w ith objective, th ird -p e rs o n
descriptions.
It is clear that bottom -up explanations do apply (e.g. that the
arousal systems “tu rn on” the cortical visual system to register
that it was a bear). There m ay also be a top-dow n explanation
(e.g. that the visual cortex may initially “impose selection crite
ria on the brainstem ’s regions” before they report back to the
visual cortex) (Pfaff, 2006, pp. 29-30). It seems most likely that
both are true. W e are dealing with extremely intricate interact
ing systems that could reconfigure their sequences depending
on the stimulus conditions.
V itality form s are usually short-lived events with nuanced
tem poral patterning th at arise in different contexts. Does the
arousal system have the finesse and flexibility to shape the tim
ing and intensity of arousal - to sculpt its force into a dynamic
FORMS OF VITALITY
form - to m eet specific local needs? The answer appears to be

yes. The reasoning is as follows.
The arousal systems are m ultiple. The ascending arousal
pathways can be divided into two m ain groups. There are the
“m aster cells of the arousal crescent” that are responsible for
general arousal (they are responsible for sleep and wakefulness).
This is the m ost prim itive and undifferentiated p a rt of the
a ro u sal system s, arising fro m th e re tic u la r fo rm a tio n o f
the brainstem . It has its own specific anatomical site, pathway
distribution, and neurotransm itter. It is the oldest part from an
evolutionary standpoint.
The second group of arousal pathways, nam ely the specific
ascending pathways, go to m ore specific parts of the brain and
serve as the “force” for different specific arousal states, e.g. hunger,
pain, sex, fear, aggression, thirst, etc. There are five different
specific ascending pathways (all distinct from the general arousal
pathway). Each of the five specific ascending pathways is differ
ent. They differ in exact anatom ical site o f origin w ithin the
brainstem, type of cell body and dendrites, anatomical locus of
term inations of their pathways higher in the brain (with over
lapping distributions), and functions. They also probably have
a different evolutionary and ontogenic history (Pfaff, 2006).
Also, five different neurotransm itters are used for each of the
five different specific pathways. These are norepinephrine,
d o p a m in e , se ro to n in , acetylcholine, an d h ista m in e . For
instance, the norepinephrine pathway is largely concerned with
sensory alertness and control of emotions, dopamine is largely
concerned with directed m otor acts, serotonin is largely involved
w ith em otional behavior and control of autonom ic nervous
system activity, and acetylcholine is largely concerned with
cortical arousal and histam ine with general arousal (Robbins
& Everitt, 1996; Pfaff, 2006; Pfaff & Banavar, 2007; Pfaff & Kieffer,
2008). The com plexity o f this system and its differentiation
in to separate p a rts provides su p p o rt for the idea th a t the

arousal systems could produce a m ultitude of highly specific
and complex arousal profiles, each eliciting a specific vitality
form.
F u rth erm o re, concerning differentiated signals from the
arousal systems, it is suggested th at the brainstem itself has
perceptual gating capacities to assign salience and to select its
responses before and/or without significant cortical processing
(e.g. the wild bear) (see Williams, 2006, p. 18).
A nother way th at the arousal system could produce m any
specific vitality forms involves taking up the ideas of the apprais
al theorists of emotions (see Chapters 4 and 6). Suppose that we
treat felt arousal as they treat emotions. Specific em otions are
thought to be created by a sequence of checks or evaluations. Is
the stim ulus novel? W hat is its hedonic tone? W hat is it? Can
the organism deal with it? And so on. The result is a particular
em otion that has been shaped by all o f these appraisals occur
ring in a tim ed sequence. Specificity becomes almost infinite.
Suppose, in the course of the neuronal interactions up and
down between the arousal centers and the higher functions, the
higher centers can appraise the arousal signal and adjust it to
best fit the im m ediate context, which includes all of the other
appraisals. For instance, is an arousal burst too long, too strong,
rising too slowly, having too sharp a peak, falling away too rap
idly, etc., for the context in which it occurs? The arousal signals
can become fine-tuned in such a process. This notion takes a
step beyond the above idea of the cortex playing only an initial
selection role in what reaches the brainstem. The neuroanato
my and neurophysiology suggest this possibility.
LeDoux (1996) proposes another way in w hich th e (sup
posed) non-specificity o f the arousal systems can have specific
effects. He suggests th a t the cortex (sensory and prefrontal)
along w ith the thalam us can gather in fo rm atio n ab o u t an
FORMS OF VITALITY
external stimulus and can organize perception, attention, and

m em ory (working and long-term memory). However, all that,
taken alone, only provides in fo rm atio n . It does n o t elicit
dynamically felt experience and it does not turn an event into a
felt experience. To do that, the activation of the arousal systems
and the amygdala is necessary. (The amygdala is an ancient part
of the basal forebrain.)
The argum ent is as follows. Perceptual inform ation from the
sensory cortex (devoid of feeling) goes directly to the brainstem
arousal systems. The brainstem is reciprocally connected to the
amygdala and sends a signal up to the amygdala (Gallagher &
Holland, 1994; LeDoux, 1996). The amygdala then projects a
signal back to the cortex to further activate the very sensory
areas that started the process, i.e. the same areas that initially
sent the inform ation “down” to the arousal system. (So far, it is
like encountering the wild bear.) A feedback loop is created
whereby the arousal from the amygdala can influence the corti-
cally organized perceptions, attention, and memories related to
the initial stimulus. These can then be sent back “down” to the
amygdala, and so on.
Now comes the essential part. W hen cortical cells (e.g. in the
visual system) are in the process of being stim ulated (e.g. by
something in the visual field), their ongoing function of percep
tion becomes heightened by an arousal signal (Hobson & Steriade,
1986; M cCormick & Bal, 1994). The cells in the cortex that are
n ot actively processing inform ation at th at m om ent rem ain
uninfluenced. In this way, a non-specific arousal signal exerts a
specific effect. It is selectively directed to the perceptual processes
that are ongoing. The result is that the dynamic features of arous
al can be integrated into specific inform ation processes. The
resultant inform ation becomes dynamically enacted - charged
w ith “engagem ent,” so to speak. Thus a specific experience is
created by a very non-specific mechanism (LeDoux, 1996).
LeDoux, like m any others, notes that arousal is elicited by any

novel stimulus, not just by emotional stimuli. However, he adds
th a t if the stim ulus is em otionally insignificant, the state of
arousal will “dissipate alm ost im m ediately ... arousal is p ro
longed in the presence of em otional stim uli” (LeDoux, 1996,
p. 290). But arousal elicited by simply novel, but not emotional,
stimuli does not recruit the amygdala. One m ight ask what hap
pens when stimuli arise mainly by virtue of a nonem otional state
being activated (e.g. a string of ideas, a movement, a color con
trast, etc.). Can these not also perpetuate the dose and duration
of arousal? Moreover, what about esthetic stimuli in general?
LeDoux’s approach to the dynamics o f experience, and the
arousal system, is in the service of explaining emotional experi
ence, especially fear. Although he recognizes that emotions do
not encompass all felt experiences, and that fear/danger is not
the same as the other em otions, he takes fear and the related
systems of defense as the central model. This explains in part his
view of the specialness of emotions vis-a-vis the arousal system -
a sort of em otion-centric view o f arousal (of great value for
understanding emotions, but less so for arousal).
The same point of view influences LeDoux’s suggestion that
emotions, in particular strong emotions (such as fear in the face
o f danger), m u st be able to perpetuate arousal. One cannot
deactivate arousal because of boredom (habituation) while the
danger persists. This makes good sense. However, there are
other situations besides danger where variability is built into the
nature of the stimulus so that habituation is less of a problem -
for example, watching a fire or listening to music. M ost music
is constructed on a them e-and-variation form at, the whole
idea being for the variations (novelty) to m aintain a level o f
arousal (or rather to repeatedly reignite it) while at the same
tim e m odulating, tickling, and m om entarily playing off the
active eliciting o f arousal. The same is true for dance, cinema,
FORMS OF VITALITY
or theater in general. It is also em inently true in spontaneous

interpersonal interactions, beginning in infancy (e.g. games)
and lasting throughout life (Stern, 1985). O f course, there are
stretches when one does get bored.
Finally, there is the question of timing. W hat is needed is an
exam ination o f the range of tem poral param eters available to
the arousal systems. We know that each of the several specific
arousal systems has its own range of frequencies, durations, and
magnitudes at which it can fire. One area of the brainstem can
fire at different magnitudes to other areas, resulting in different
durations. For instance, m any different frequencies are emitted
from the amygdala when responding to a fear stimulus (Quirk,
Repa, 8c LeDoux, 1995). We also know that the different ascend
ing pathways governed by different transmitters can fire at dif
ferent frequencies, d u ratio n s, and m agnitudes. M oreover,
groups of cells can fire in synchrony or be desynchronized.
A very rough estimate o f the potential num ber o f different
arousal shifts and profiles that, at any m om ent, could eventuate
from the complexity of the arousal systems is astounding. An
arousal shift could go in one of three directions, i.e. rise, fall, or
rem ain steady. O f the five different specific arousal systems, any
one could fire alone or in any combination with the other four.
There are thousands of possible options for ascending signals.
Add the fact that each system can act over a range of density of
neural firing, and a range of durations, with various overlaps,
and the num ber o f possibilities for different arousal profiles
becomes astronomical. There is the potential for creating a uni
verse of dynamic experiences. Perhaps the limiting factor is our
creativity in d ifferentiating separate dynam ic experiences
among the panoply of arousal profiles. Language will likely be a
restrictive force in such a differentiation, because it is too cate
gorical, b u t it does help to anchor families of dynamic forms
and, accordingly, vitality forms.
A POSSIBLE NEUROSCIENTIFIC BASIS FOR VITALITY FORMS 67
It is pertinent to point out th at the basal ganglia along with

the cerebellum control m any aspects o f tim ing. A clock-like
mechanism o f pacemaker and accumulator has been described
in the basal ganglia, and it plays a p art in fine-grained tim ing
discrim inations (Ferrandez et a l, 2003). The basal ganglia are
im p o rtan t in auditory tasks as well as m o to r tasks. They are
thought to perm it the tim ing of sound durations (Belin et a l,
2002; Nenadic et a l, 2003).1
Related to this, patients with basal ganglia (brainstem) im pair
m ent have difficulty perform ing the dynamic aspects of apply
ing force. They apply m ore or less force th an is needed. For
instance, they imitate the force needed for a handgrip less well
than norm als, and are less accurate in regulating force pulses
(Vaillancourt et a l, 2007).
The above findings about the basal ganglia’s involvement in
tim ing and force regulation are not surprising in the light of the
role suggested for the brainstem in vitality dynamics.
Are the arousal systems regulated from

higher centers?
The regulation of emotions from other centers in the brain pro
vides the m odel for this question, so we shall start there. It is
generally agreed that m ost emotions are regulated by cognitive
appraisals, or even created by them . Does this also apply to
vitality forms? M any have proposed th at the final em otional
experience (what we say that we feel) is the result of m ultiple
processes acting together and in sequence, namely physiological
arousal, neurological activation, attention processes, hedonic eval
uation, the social context, cultural biases, “basic” response ten
dencies, past history, and so on (Scherer, 1993, 2001; Thompson,
1994; Scherer, Schorr, & Johnstone, 2001).
All o f the above processes filter, m odulate, appraise, and
interpret an initial stimulus. Emotional states arise by virtue of
FORMS OF VITALITY
the course and result of the sequential appraisal process. For

instance, in one version o f this process, a stimulus will first be
appraised as to w hether it is novel, containing p otentially
im portant information. Is it significant or is it just noise that is
uninterestingly familiar? Milliseconds later it is appraised as to
whether it is to be avoided or approached (a hedonic appraisal).
Only later, in milliseconds, is it appraised as to its identity -
what it is. In other words, we are already reacting to a stimulus
well before we know what it is. (You can decide while running
away that it was a wild bear you saw. If you had to wait to decide
before you began to run, you would be dead.) After the identity
appraisal, the situation is appraised w ith regard to available
coping mechanisms, social implications, m oral consequences,
etc. (Zajonc, 1980; Scherer, 2001). The strongest position ofthis
idea is that of the cognitive appraisal theorists who propose that
appraisal is responsible for the em otion th at finally emerges.
Different appraisals at each point in the sequential “evaluation
check” cause different em otions (Lazarus, 2001). It is like
a d ju stin g several b a rre ls o n an o ld -fa sh io n e d telescope.
Accordingly, there m ay be hundreds or thousands of qualities
and blends of feeling that different processes of appraisal pro
duce. Each one is a separate em otion on its own. We then have
to squeeze this panoply of emotions into the few categories that
our particular language provides.
We can now return to the m ain question that has been posed.
Do vitality form s exist before or only after arousal has been
“regulated” to fit local needs? In addition, what would vitality
forms be like w ithout any content? Alternatively, viewed from
the opposite side, why can appraisal processes n ot be applied
to dynamic experiences alone, even when they are occurring
outside of an emotional event or before one?
Some assume that at certain times, under certain conditions,
dynam ic features can be felt and expressed directly w ithout
having to pass through an appraisal process (LeDoux, 1996,

2002; Frijda & Zeelenberg, 2001; Pfaff, 2006). W hat form might
such direct expressions take? We generally think that if neural
discharges from the brainstem are unregulated by higher cent
ers so as to fit the immediate local context, they would be very
primitive, untam ed, unm odulated, and uncontrolled (e.g. rage,
escape, attack, exploratory behavior, and other survival and
vital functions).
Suppose that it is true only under certain circumstances, such as
physical trauma, illness, surgical procedures, and/or experimen
tal procedures (where m ost o f the evidence for this position
comes from ). Suppose, further, that under norm al conditions
the original, unregulated dynam ic experience evoked by the
arousal system makes up a m uch larger, richer, and finer reper
toire o f felt experience than we have imagined, both w ith and
w ithout cortical appraisal. In other words, the brainstem itself
creates or imposes finer distinctions and nuances.
This is n o t so far-fetched w hen one considers th a t fetuses
beginning at 10 weeks of gestation (with no cortical input) have
a repertoire of non-reflex movements triggered by arousal surges
(see C hapter 6). R est-activity cycles and sleep-w ake cycles
begin to form well before 30 weeks o f gestation (som e say
18 weeks). It is not so clear when brainstem projections to the
cortex and vice versa are functional, even w hen they are ana
tomically present. In any event, the arousal system is organizing
itself an d fu n ctio n in g well w ith o u t dem onstrable cortical
input.
In addition, very young infants grow up partaking in multiple
dynam ic experiences long before they “appraise cognitively”
(as usually m eant). They breathe in and out smoothly, they hic
cup, yawn, burp, defecate, urinate, swallow, and suck. Each of
these activities also has a different arousal profile, and traces a
different vitality dynamic. Babies wait with growing expectation
FORMS OF VITALITY
and excitement for the breast to be uncovered or the bottle to

be prepared. They suffer waves of hunger and the m ounting of
tension. All of these events involve dynamic experiences. It is
likely that infants do perceive and represent these in some non
verbal, kinesethetic, and bodily m anner. They give so m any
indications th a t they do, particularly in their spontaneous
anticipatory behaviors.
Let us extend this list. Infants shut and reopen their eyes very
often to a new scene with the “upsurge of a fresh present” as a
n a tu ra l h ap pening (M erleau-Ponty, 1962). They learn the
dynam ics o f the w orld “reappearing.” They w atch cycles o f
change that repeat every day or m any times a day in their visual,
auditory, olfactory, proprioceptive, and tactile fields. Games of
tension buildup like “peek-a-boo” or “I’m gonna get’cha” or
“pat-a-cake,” where expectations of various vitality forms build
up to high levels, climax, and resolve. Young babies also elicit
and solicit interactions to bring their level of excitation down
soothing, stroking, singing softly at slowish tempos, etc. Each of
these happenings has a different arousal profile and vitality
form. There is a body of work suggesting that in the first days
and weeks of life, neonatal (and preem ie) psychology turns
a round the regulation o f stim ulus strength and the arousal
elicited. The m anagem ent of the dynam ics of experience is
am ong the baby’s first, unavoidable, vital tasks (Als, 1984;
Dunn, 1997; Bruschweiler-Stern, 2000).
Are the arousal systems specific enough?

The following question becom es crucial. Do the neuroana-
tom ic arrangem ent and neurophysiologic functioning of the
arousal systems, have enough specificity, by them selves, to
account for the variety o f m ovem ents seen in the (largely
“pre-cortical”) fetus, neonate, and young infant? The answer
is yes.
In short, infants grow up living a large spectrum of dynamic

experiences. W e assume that this does not necessarily require
any or m uch cognitive appraisal. Dubowitz et al. (1986) have
asked whether the cortex is even needed for vision in the infant.
Yet the dynamic aspect of experience can be represented in body,
kinesthetic, and dynamic form representations. This repertoire
will n ot disappear with development; it will grow in breadth and
richness to include how we expect others to move and to talk.
And it will include our own m anner of being alive, our style, our
characteristic vitality forms, and our dynamic signature.
W hile the dynamic features of experience can be felt before
and w ithout any appreciable cognitive processing, they are usu
ally finely sculpted and fitted to local conditions by cognitive
appraisal processes a n d em o tio n al co lo ratio n w hen these
become available during development. In fact, higher m ental
activity such as conscious imaginings can trigger vitality forms.
The b o tto m -u p and to p -d o w n m u tu al regulation m akes it
possible to feign an inauthentic arousal response in social situ
ations when called for. We do this very frequently with exagger
ated raising of the eyebrows, opening the eyes wider, brightening
them , shifting posture forward, m oving when previously still,
or stilling w hen previously in m otion, and so on. Such social
adjustm ents are presum ably directed by the cortical centers
regulating the ascending arousal pathways, as they do for the
facial expression of emotions.
Dynam ic experiences of vitality can arise from the arousal
systems acting relatively alone. Alternatively, they can evolve
from the input of cognitive and emotional centers that regulate
the original brainstem message to meet local conditions.
In summary, there are anatomical and functional features of
the arousal system th at make it a plausible candidate for pro
viding the tem poral and force features to underpin the experi
ence of dynamic forms of vitality.
| FORMS OF VITALITY
Notes
1. There is a difference between event timing (e.g. tapping) compared with
continuous timing. It is suggested that event timing is more controlled by the
cerebellum and continuous timing is more controlled by the basal ganglia, as
might be expected concerning dynamic happenings.
Part II
The Role of the

Arousal Systems,
and the Examples
of Music, Dance,
Theater, and Cinema
Chapter 5
Vitality Forms in Music,

Dance, Theater, and Cinema
The arts provide an excellent example of how arousal-related

vitality forms work on us. Everyone has experience o f the time-
based arts. In addition, everyone has encountered m om ents
w hen v itality form s evoked by the arts have m oved them .
Equally im portant, the arts show vitality forms in a relatively
purified form - pure in the sense that the dynamic features of a
performance have usually been amplified, refined, and rehearsed
repeatedly. They are pure also, because, as Langer (1953) has
pointed out, vitality dynamics can be relatively disentangled
from the contingencies or storylines of daily life.
N onetheless, the arts are n o t unique. They serve as a good
example o f w hat happens in daily interactions betw een two
people, as well as in special situations like the consulting room.
An ordinary interaction is also a performance where the faces,
bodies, tone o f voice, etc. of the speaker and listener are the
show for each other and for themselves, involving rapid shifts
in arousal, interest, and aliveness. Seen from the outside, such
an interaction is a duet. So let us look at the dynamic aspects o f
these arts m ore closely.
We are moved by the arts from m om ent to m om ent as well as
over longer stretches of time. Tensions, forces, and excitement
rise and fall. O ur arousal level is constantly in play during a per
formance. The time-based arts are largely about the dynamics of
experiences. Vitality forms are the working experiential units.
FORMS OF VITALITY
(At times they carry with them specific emotions.) The vitality
forms arise in the m ind of the audience, if not in the perform er’s
mind, and had to have been present in some form in the m ind
of the original artist.
Some contem porary artists have chosen to do away w ith
traditional form s such as narrative structure, linearity, n o n
random ness, totality, etc. Nonetheless, while any gesture or
musical line is unfolding, it creates expectations of how it will
resolve itself. Implications appear, and with them arousal shifts
and vitality forms emerge.
Two questions arise. First, each art has had to identify the
basic dynamic forms used by its art form , and then to invent
codes for m arking these dynamic forms (dynamic indicators)
so th a t reproductions of the w ork can faithfully render the
forms of vitality desired, and establish a canonical version that
individual interpretations can be evaluated against.
Secondly, as vitality forms operate in all modalities and p re
sum ably elicit sim ilar felt states regardless o f w hat m odality
they arise from, what opportunities does this offer for collabo
rations between artists working in different art forms? Can the
same vitality forms be triggered by two or more art forms? Will
their effects be com plem entary or additive, or m ore than the
sum of the parts? W hat m ay artistic collaborations tell us? This
question is pertinent because all art forms bring the same rep
ertoire o f vitality forms into the collaboration.
Before going further, two general comments are relevant. We
shall be dealing almost exclusively with the smaller or shorter
dynamic forms - the m om ent-to-m om ent shifts in arousal and
excitement. Also, we shall limit the discussion to the strictly time-
based arts, namely music, dance, certain theater, and cinema,
because they take place in “real” time. In contradistinction, the
language-based arts, such as traditional theater, fiction, and
poetry, are usually driven by the narrative process and take place
VITALITY FORMS IN MUSIC, DANCE, THEATER, AND CINEMA
in both “real” time (the time to read, hear, or see) and narrative
time simultaneously, thus complicating the situation. The fasci
nating problem of dynamic experience in prose and poetry will
be p u t off for now, even though these arts have implicit non-
linguistic “rules” for expressing vitality forms, and the linguistic
means to evoke them. This also includes the “art” of rhetoric.
Collaborations
M uch of w hat follows on collaboration was aided by a round
table at the Philoctetes Center for the M ultidisciplinary Study
of Imagination, New York, in 2007.
C ollaborations seem very natural when one considers how
one art form is so frequently spoken of in terms of another. For
instance, consider Alastair Macaulay’s 2007 review of the fare
well perform ance of the ballerina Kyra Nichols from the New
York City Ballet:
... the b rig h t pulse she brings to the circuit o f jum ps, ... th e singing
legato c u rr e n t... [of] a rapid skein o f turns ... the devout way h e r arms
rise?
O r c o n sid e r h o w R o b in G old in g (1986) w rites a b o u t

Beethoven’s quartet, opus 131:
T he th ird variation is ... p liant ... coaxing ... flattering ... in its first
half, b u t em phatic in its second ... [the last variation] ends virtually in
m id-air.
M ost probably, all cultures since the beginning have used

dance and m usic together. O nly in the n in eteenth century,
however, did mixing different art forms take on another aspect.
U nder W agner’s influence, a new spirit emerged of exploring
the com bination of art form s to create new and m ore “total”
form s o f art, and ultim ately to renew the artistic landscape
(Borchmeyer, 2003). A sort of artistic/cultural revolution started.
Under the influence of Darwinian evolution, Wagner saw each art
form as if it were a different species. He thought that each form
had evolved to a high point and was at the end o f its possibilities.
| FORMS OF VITALITY
Musical composers, he thought, could not go beyond Beethoven,

and theater could not go beyond Shakespeare. He saw the col
laboration or fusion of different art forms as a way to create new
and m ore “total” art forms - to reinvigorate.
W ith Wagner, the m eta-m odal nature of vitality forms com
m on to all arts seems to have come m ore into the foreground.
Artists began to seek o ut other artists who worked in different
art forms to explore the feelings and ideas evoked by combining
them. The following is a highly selected chronological grouping
of collaborations th a t sought som ething m ore “to tal” in the
W agnerian sense.
Am ong the m ore rem arkable collaborations th at emerged
were the “symbolist” collaborations at the end of the nineteenth
cen tu ry betw een poets (B audelaire and M allarm e, am ong
others), painters (including Bonnard, Toulouse-Lautrec, and
Serat), and theater artists. The guiding notion was “correspond
ence” between the art forms that was seen as a way of regenerat
ing the arts and leading them beyond where they were then.
A new avant-garde was created (Balakian, 1967; Deak, 1993;
Fleischer, 2007). The symbolists were not trying to create a new,
more total, static form, as Wagner was. Rather they felt that one
art form could stand for another, and reinforce or evoke another.
The idea was to create a m ore transcendental subjective proc
ess, something m ore mysterious.
“Correspondences” between art forms are necessarily created
because of the m eta-m odal nature of vitality forms that assure
a com m on ability to render similar, but n ot identical, experi
ences. The magic lies in pairing the similar with the “n ot exactly
the same.”
W hen different art forms are juxtaposed, certain aspects do not
translate well from one form to the next. For example, literal
sense does not. Specific emotion does only a little better, and mood
and vitality forms probably do best. Vitality forms are closer to
the ground. O n a m om ent-to-m om ent basis, vitality forms are

readily transferable between art forms - in large part because of
their meta-modality and potential speed of modulation.
Beginning in the early 1900s, Diagaleff and his Ballets Russes
w orking in Paris b ro u g h t together com posers (Stravinsky,
Debussy, Ravel, and Prokofiev), poets (H ofm annsthal and
Cocteau), choreographers (Fokine, Massine, Nijinsky, Nijinska,
and Balanchine), and painters (Picasso, Braque, Matisse, and
D erain). High m om ents o f collaboration resulted in classical
works still danced today, such as Le Sacre du Printemps, Les
Sylphides, Firebird, Petrouchka, L ’A pres-midi d’un Faune, and Les
Noces. Here, too, the underlying Wagnerian idea of creating a new
and greater art form, a “totality,” was in the air (Garafola, 1989).
At roughly the same tim e, the choreographer, Fokine, split
from D iagaleff s Ballets Russes and created Ballets Suedois:
“W hat ballet company has ever put on such a display, bringing
together at one time the most famous musicians and the cream
of French artists” (Hager, 1990, p. 7). The Ballets Suedois was
inspired by m odern dance as well as classical ballet. It was con
sidered even bolder and m ore avant-garde th an th e Ballets
Russes, especially in the daring juxtaposition of vitality forms
taken from sound and sight.
Again, the m eta-m odal character of vitality forms is crucial
for the effects achieved.
A little later, an extraordinary collaboration began between
the Russian film-maker Eisenstein and the composer Prokofiev.
For sections o f film, they planned each cinema shot so that the
dynamic feel (including spatial extension) evoked by the visual
line of the camera shot corresponded to the musical line and
feel o f the m usical phrase th a t accom panied the film shot.
Classical films like Alexander Nevsky resulted.
The collaborative work o f the Bauhaus School in Germ any
from 1919 to 1933 involved the com ing together of painters,
FORMS OF VITALITY
sculptors, architects, dram atists, avant-garde film -m akers,

musicians, and perceptual psychologists. Among the Bauhaus’
initial “m aster teachers” were Josef Albers, Laszlo M oholy-
Nagy, Walter Gropius, Vassily Kandinsky, Paul Klee, and Lyonel
Feininger. The goal of the Bauhaus School was to make a “build
ing o f the future,” to “combine all the arts in an ideal unity.”
Its influence was enorm ous, and affected som e o f the arts
throughout the rest of the twentieth century. The work of Paul
Klee provides a good example, He was inspired by all these
influences, in particular m usic and architecture (D uchting,
1997). The subtitle of Duchting’s book, “painting music,” cap
tures the spirit.
In the mid-twentieth century there was the famous collabora
tion between the composer John Cage, the choreographer Merce
Cunningham, and the painter Robert Rauschenberg. Their guid
ing notion was not to create a new art form, grander and more
“total” as W agner had originally hoped for, but the opposite, to
create a m ultim odal dissolution and deconstruction of estab
lished forms and assumptions. (The dancers may have heard the
music they were to dance to only just before the performance.)
These are only some of the earlier collaborations directly or
indirectly influenced by W agnerian ideas. (It cannot be forgot
ten that cinema (see below), opera, and the Broadway musical
are quintessentially collaborative art forms.)
Attracted by the allure of the meta-modal, new collaborations
continue to spring up. As an example, the Judson Dance Theater
was one of m any groups in the dance explosion in New York dur
ing the 1960s and 1970s. This group of experimental choreogra
phers and theater artists turned mainly around Yvonne Rainer
and Steve Paxton. The group was highly perm eable to influ
ences from others who passed in and out and gave rise to other
collaborations, such as the Yvonne Rainer Dance Co., Grand
U nion (an improvisional ensemble), Contact Improvisation of
Steve Paxton, Trisha Brown Dance Co., Douglas D unn Dance

Co., David Gordon, Pick Up Co., Lucinda Childs, and others.
In a sense, collaboration, in and of itself, became an art form, a
living organism in constant change (Banes, 1987; Rainer, 2006).
New coding systems that could capture dynamic features of any
m ovem ent form could hardly catch up (with some exceptions,
e.g. N oaEshkol).
The w ork o f R o b ert W ilson created e x tra o rd in a ry new
dynam ic form s of vitality in the lighting and scenic arrange
ments, such that m uch of the dram a of dance and theater turned
around or took off from visual effects. At tim es, in W ilson’s
hands, the real dram a was in the lighting and other visual effects
(Holmberg, 1996).
In one way or another all of these collaborations are founded
on the assum ption that at a fundam ental level time-based art is
concerned largely, but not exclusively, with Langer’s “forms of
feeling,” i.e. w ith vitality forms. In addition, the dynamics o f
experience are revealed in all art forms because they speak the
same m eta-m odal language of vitality form s w ith or w ithout
identifiable emotions. Furtherm ore, the “language” o f vitality
forms is applicable to ordinary, everyday movements (Rainer’s
We Shall Run) and even to contact im provisation (Paxton’s
Proxy).
Vitality form s serve a similar function for interactions with
pre-verbal infants or non-verbalizing adults as do m etaphors in
the realm of the verbal and symbolic. Such forms are also used
in the teaching of music (e.g. Emile Jaques-Dalcroze).
The problem of coding for the experience of

vitality forms in music, dance, theater, and
cinema
Exactly how do vitality forms become translated into “the realm
of the perceptible” in each art form?
FORMS OF VITALITY
Music
Over m any centuries, m usic developed a system of m arking the
dynamic features that make a performance faithful to the inten
tions and impulses of the composer, and also provide a stand
ard for evaluating individual interpretations. These codes, often
called dynam ic m arkers, are well know n. However, as n o n
m usicians we often do n o t realize the very central place o f
dynamic m arkers in com posing and playing music. Here are
some of the codes that music uses to m ark dynamic forms and
thus create vitality forms.
♦ The intensity (force) is indicated with signs or symbols:
p (piano) = quietly, softer, weaker; pp (pianissimo) = very
quietly; f (forte) = loud, stronger; ff (fortissimo) = m uch
louder, stronger, etc. The term “dynamics” in music refers
to loudness alone. However, the loudness is felt to reflect
force by the listener. Indeed, to achieve a louder sound, a
pianist m ust bring more weight over their hands, and the
audience feels the force of that action (Alderman, 2007).
The equivalent is true for any instrum ent. It is the body’s
force plus gravity and intent that ultimately shape and
express vitality forms.
♦ Changes in intensity, i.e. contouring the intensity in time,
are marked with signs such as < = growing intensity (cre
scendo) and > = decreasing intensity (decrescendo). These
markings when played elicit specific vitality forms.
♦ Stress or accents are many. For example, sf (sforzando) calls
for a sharp, strong “attack.” There m ust be bodily and m en
tal preparation to unleash the power of a rapid blow. This is
transm itted as a vitality form to the listener by way of our
cross-modal perception and m irror neuron system. Short
notes with dots under them (staccato) call for abrupt notes
with distinct breaks between them, as opposed to legato,
where there is a sm ooth glide between notes. There is a

sharp tripping as against a flow.
♦ The flow can be m arked with arches over a group o f notes
to indicate that they should all flow together like a single
phrase, or with a m ark to hold a note. In fact, m ost of the
above indications m ay alter the flow. The flow of the music
as heard is complicated. For instance, a repeated phrase has
a different flow because the dynamics of its flow are expect
ed the second time. The nature of sequences, and the expec
tations that they fulfill or violate, play a large role, as do
cultural norm s in our dynamic responses to flow patterns.
♦ M ore familiar is the speed (tempo), which is m arked by
musical convention. In addition, the “spirit of the speed”
is implied in the indications of allegro (light), andante
(walking speed), and so on. These notations are not simply
speeds, b u t help to make up the vitality form to be
expressed. Progressive changes in speed are written as
“ritardando” (slowing down) or “accelerando” (speeding
up), etc., again creating micro-shifts in arousal.
♦ The rhythm is also indicated by conventions. Changes in
rhythm immediately shift the orbit of arousal.
W ith the developm ent from the harpsichord to the piano
forte, with its greater dynamic possibilities, the need for written
dynamic indicators became far greater. Some composers, such
as B artok, use th em copiously. The extrem e dynam ics o f
Beethoven provide a well-known display of vitality forms, an
exercise in playing with our arousal level. In his fifth symphony,
the first four sounds (two notes) are the famous, “da da da dah.”
He establishes an initial level o f arousal and a specific vitality
form. He takes this four-note dynamic/melodic theme through
m any variations in intensity, speed, tim bre, color, and stress.
For instance, sometimes the them e is preceded with a longish
FORMS OF VITALITY
silence - isolated. It is then attacked with gusto and force - it

stands alone. Arousal is heightened. At other times it is quieter
and almost flows out of or into the surrounding sounds. O ur
arousal shifts downw ard. It is placed som etim es higher and
sometimes lower on the scale, or again different instrum ents
may carry the theme. Beethoven’s subject m atter is nothing less
than the vitality dynamics o f music and life.
In another vein, the dynamic features of a musical piece can
tell you w ithin seconds w hether it is rock, blues, country, or
reggae, even when all are playing the same song. The dynamic
features that differentiate them are clear when you know what
to listen for, e.g. w hich notes in a m easure are stressed, etc.
(Levitin, 2006).
Using these dynamic markers, the rhythms and melodies with
their variations and harmonies are imbued with the feel of being
alive and vital.
Dance
Dance, like music, had to create a system o f codifying its basic
elements (positions, gestures, and movements, plus partnering
conventions). It also needed a way to m ark the dynamic forms
that express in what m anner these “classroom steps” were to be
performed.
Late seventeenth and early eighteenth-century Royal court
dances in France (not true performances) developed conven
tions for certain dynamic features. For example, the m ain stress,
beat-m arker, was a “dow n” (bending the knees, like a curtsy)
followed by a relatively strong rise “u p ” (O kam oto, 2008).
These have been coded. The sharp “up” gives a mini-arousal jag
a pleasing vitality form.
Classical ballet developed its own conventions for positions,
steps, jum ps, etc. Over several centuries dance, like m usic,
developed a corpus of accepted elements (body positions, etc.).
However, unlike music, it had no standard comprehensive cod

ing system. Dances, w hen n o t being danced, existed only in
m emory, where in tim e they became distorted or slipped into
oblivion. They needed a perm anent system of coding. As m od
ern and im provisational dance grew, dance became less about
telling a story with conventional positions and movements, and
more about the play of vitality forces.
R u d o lf Laban to o k up the problem and was the m o d ern
“fath e r” of a dance n o tatio n system called “L abanotation”
(Laban & Lawrence, 1947; Laban, 1956). His work began in the
1920s and 1930s, well before adequate video recordings. Even
now m any dance companies still use Labanotation (along with
video) because it is hard to get everything needed from all of the
dancers on video, even with several cameras.
He wanted a system whereby any dancer, from anywhere, at
any point in tim e could reproduce a dance with technical fidel
ity, without ever having seen it performed. Therefore he created
a basic graphic system to code the positions o f the legs, feet,
body, arms, hands, and head, as well as the steps, movements,
jumps, etc. In addition, the direction, durations, and rhythm of
all of these are scored. That is the backbone. The graphic record
is written vertically so that left, right, and center are easily read.
The music is written alongside the vertical record in parallel.
Laban was also sensitive to what he called “the spiritually vital
izing effect” of dance - of rendering movement so as to capture
the inner feeling - and the need to allow for and code different,
even individual, interpretations (in short, the vitality forms of
the dance). To capture the uniqueness of an interpretation he
needed w ritten dynamic indicators. He also had to be able to
distinguish a technical performance from a creative interpreta
tion. To cite Macaulay (2007) describing a ballerina: “Thousands
of dancers can do these classroom steps, but who will make us
care about them the same way?” To address this lack, Laban
FORMS OF VITALITY
added a repertoire of “stresses,” “flows,” and “effects” to the

basic system. Accordingly every movem ent is scored along three
stress dimensions: strong-light, direct-flexible, and sustained -
quick. So “punching” w ould be a strong/direct/quick m ove
m ent, whereas “floating” w ould be light/flexible/sustained.
These stresses and others help to capture the “flow,” or what he
called the “action-character of an elaborate m otif.”
He also coded the “initial impulse” that is added to the funda
m ental m ovem ent and a “preparatory effect” (the movements
to get ready), and other features to capture the vitality form.
The attention that Laban devoted to capturing the dynamic
features of dance is impressive because, in a sense, that was sec
ondary to establishing a notation system for the basic categorical
elements (the classroom steps).
Some dynamic features are almost impossible to code; there is
no language or sign system for them . Two exam ples from
Jerome Robbins’ choreography are telling. A dancer was told to
suddenly tu rn h er h ead sharply to the side, at 90 degrees.
She did, and it looked fine, but it was n ot exactly what Robbins
wanted, so he said, “T urn it like you had been slapped in the
face, h ard .” W hen she did that the effect was quite different.
M any of the dancers he worked with cited him as often saying
“Do it faster ... only slower.”
There was an explosion of m odern dance in the 1930s, p ar
ticularly in Germany and the USA by choreographers such as
Harald Kreutzberg, Yvonne Georgi, Doris Hum phrey, Isadora
Duncan, and M artha Graham (see Jowitt, 1988). They greatly
inspired a burst of exploration of new forms during the 1950s,
1960s, and 1970s. Dynamic experience was examined more, in
and o f itself, and choreographers looked to non-linear, ra n
dom, non-narrative forms. They found inspiration in improvi
sation and the ordinary movements and objects of everyday life
(e.g. M erce Cunningham , Steve Paxton, Yvonne Rainer, and
R obert W ilson, am ong m any). However, no new system atic

coding systems for dynamic features were developed for these
changes. The composition of working groups was in m ore flux.
Im provised moves are h ard to score and usually highly indi
vidual. Dances were often created in rehearsal or even during
the performance. In short, a new perm anent coding system was
less of a priority.
M odern dance has been in the avant-garde in exploring the
dynamics of m ovem ent and experience, and o f working w ith
vitality forms in general. Their influence, both direct and indirect,
is wide. This is particularly true for all non-verbal, movement-
based psychotherapies that touch upon vitality forms.
The work of W arren Lamb (1965) straddles the arts and the
behavioral-psychological dom ains. Influenced by Laban and
m odern dance, he added m any new descriptions and terms to
address the problem of forms of dynamic experience. He broke
m ovem ent dow n into two m ain categories, nam ely posture,
involving the continual adjustment of all body parts, and gesture,
where the action is confined to only a part or parts of the body.
This permits him to think in terms of the merging of gesture and
posture. Think of throwing a ball. The arm gesture and the body
adjustments that carry the arm gesture are generally merged in a
well-coordinated athlete. They start and stop together, or flow
sm oothly into one another. Someone who has never throw n a
ball will, at first try, have m om ents where only gesture or only
posture is in m otion at a given time. The act looks clumsy.
O n the o th er hand, the partial uncoupling o f the m erger
between gesture and posture can also create stunning effects.
This is frequently seen in comedy, particularly slapstick. In
dram a, too, it forces the audience to see freshly; it can act to
deconstruct (e.g. Robert W ilson’s work) (Holmbherg, 1996).
Lamb also described these two categories in term s o f their
effort and shape, w hich can always vary and can be m atched
FORMS OF VITALITY
or not. D ifferent vitality form s result from the variations o f

effort and shape that allow one to speak o f force, speed, decel
eration, acceleration, pow er, strength, flexibility, etc. For
instance, during a dramatic m om ent a ballerina is to run on to
the stage from the wings to m eet her lo v e r-p a rtn e r, to be
reunited. She enters on beat with the music. It looks banal. The
choreographer then says to her, “W ait a half beat before enter
ing, then ru n and catch up the beat by the time you reach him .”
All of a sudden you feel her burst, her effort, her desire to get to
her partner. The entrance is now dramatic. She has a pressing
immediate goal.
M any term s th a t encom pass vitality form s are defined in
terms of the merging of gesture and posture, and the matching
of effort and shape (e.g. growing, shrinking, spreading, enclos
ing, freeing, binding, and others). This work applies to the arts,
psychology, the workplace, sports, or wherever else the dynam
ic dimension of experience is relevant.
Paxton’s w ork on “contact im provisation” calls for another
kind of system for coding because the “action” is m ore on the
dynamics of making and breaking physical contact between two
bodies in spontaneous m otion (Paxton, 1993, 2008). This is
closer to aspects o f a relational psychoanalytic session when
viewed n o t after it is over, b u t from the middle o f the session
when one does n o t know w hat will happen next, where each
m ove is co-created on the spot and dependent on what h ap
pened immediately before.
Janet Goodridge (1999), among others, explores the dynamic
features of tim e and rhythm in performance events, including
dance, dram a, and ceremony. She holds rhythm to be a basic
building block for social ties, cultural styles, and individual per
sonalities - w hat she calls the “signature characteristics of the
movement-personality of an individual” (p. 129). We could call
this an aspect o f their repertoire o f vitality form s. She also
describes differences in the dynamic features o f perform ance

in different cultures (a fascinating subject th a t is beyond the
scope of this book).
The clinical fallouts from dance and m usic have included
dance therapy, m ovement therapy, music therapy, Feldenkrais,
and others. M any of these practitioners have been dancers or
m usicians as well as tra in ed clinicians. They are extrem ely
sensitive to the m yriad vitality forms they encounter in their
work. They are experts in the realm of dynamics, but rarely call
w hat they do “working with dynamics,” although that is exactly
what they do better than most.
Therefore, w ith dance as w ith music, great effort has gone
into theory making and devising systems to capture the features
th a t brin g fo rth vitality form s. The arts have paid far m ore
attention to this aspect o f experience than has psychology. They
have had to do so, as they w ant to express the aliveness and
vitality of hum an movem ent and sound.
Theater
Theater is played in real time, but the story unfolds in narrative
time. The two weave in and out. To avoid the complication of a
narrative timeline, and focus m ore purely on the vitality forms
b o rn o f arousal profiles, I have chosen a short stretch o f a
“theater piece” by Robert Wilson. It has no words, and is a sort
o f dance-theater. The excerpt is taken from “Bob’s Breakfast”
(Wilson, Stern, & Bruschweiler-Stern, 2009). The basic m ate
rial for the piece is draw n from W ilson’s experience during
breakfast one m orning. It concerns how he projects his inner
world of imagined or recalled events out onto the stage. How is
this transposition made?
A very detailed interview takes place w ith W ilson a few
hours after his breakfast, which he ate in bed. This interview is
called a “micro-analytic interview” (see Chapter 7) (Stern, 2004).
W ilson is asked what he experienced during breakfast. A short

portion of his breakfast experience is chosen - a m inute or so of
real tim e. Everything he experienced during th a t short tim e
is asked about (e.g. movements, thoughts, emotions, memories,
fantasies, blanks, sensations, shifts in stance, w hat he saw,
heard, etc.).
The interview lasts several hours in order to cover the several
minutes of lived experience. After the interview is over, Wilson
is asked, unexpectedly for him, to make a theater piece o f his
breakfast experience. By doing this, we obtained an account of
his private subjective experience and its projection onto a pub
lic stage. The following fragment comes from the theater piece
that resulted. (It is to be read as follows: all actions that can be
seen or heard by the audience are written in bold type, and all
commentaries are written in italics.)
There is a “cling” from a small bell coming from somewhere off stage.
Our nervous system and m ind are thereby p u t on alert.
An actor enters from back-stage-left and runs downstage at a moder

ate speed. He starts to circle the whole downstage counterclockwise
from left to right, then upstage and around again. His arms are not
swinging forward and back as much as they should, given his stride
and speed.
R ig h t aw ay there is som ething unusual. Where is he going? A n d w hy

doesn’t he swing his arms like someone really running? The arm position
is odd. Our interest is piqued and arousal rises, carrying curiosity. B u t the
legs are running normally. [There is a disjunction between posture and
gesture in Lam b’s terms.]
The runner makes large circles.
This is no longer everyday running. Yet there is rapid enough forward

movement. We sense the forward movement, in and fo r itself. I t becomes
a presentation o f forward movement. I t makes you aware o f the feel o f
forward motion. He is not going anywhere, he is ju s t going. A n d he is not
running, he is ju st moving forward. We are dealing with dynamic essences.
We are watching “moving along,” “getting somewhere,” achieved through
vitality forms.
He makes seven circles. They increase progressively in speed and

tightness.
A fter several circles, the running becomes boring, the level o f arousal falls
back and the audience’s attention is released and moves from the runner to
the background which the audience has not y et had time to take in. There is
a flying ladder, a hanging tree, a wooden divan and chair. The background
comes forward in the viewer’s perception. [Wilson often builds in boredom
on purpose, to let arousal fall back so he can build it up again, or to change
the perceptual field.]
The entire scene would be lit with a diagonal wash o f light, very airy.
The flying ladder would be lit specially. A n d the hanging tree would have
its own light from above so its shadows are thrown on the floor. Attention
has been flipflopped from action to set. Wilson is choreographing shifts in
our attention, arousal and dynamic experience.
The runner starts to pick up speed and the circles become even
tighter.
This change in speed pulls our attention back to the runner. I t is the equiv
alent o f an accelerando in music. We get a slight arousal jag. Something is
going to happen. H e has to be going "somewhere.” The action is building
to a crisis. A big crisis?A mini-crisis?A simple resolution? We don’t know.
The arousal mounts higher. A new vitality dynamic takes over. H e stops.
His arms are held at his sides but his hands are extended outwards,
horizontally, palms down. His head is turned away from the divan.
He is facing the back of the stage, in frozen stillness.
The fu ll stop resolves the momentary crisis o f his accelerating speed. B u t not
completely. The motion is replaced by stillness as the regulator o f arousal.
The stillness is juxtaposed against the arrested motion and is thus high
lighted. W e have reached a new semi-stable point, a different arousal state
and different vitality form.
Ax the freeze continues, the crisis o f the abrupt stop is resolved, b u t the
freeze is unstable. Tension builds again. He can’t remain frozen. I t needs
its own resolution. The suspense is stretched by the 'elongated duration o f
the arrested movement.
W e have been prepared in steps or cycles o f augm enting tension. N ow

something m ust happen.
“Cling” (from offstage)

We are re-alerted for something else.
Im mediately after the “cling” the actor abruptly swings his head
around to look at the divan and pauses. His arms rise slowly outwards
to the side.
The runner is now looking a t something. There is a clear focus for the first
time. A n d we now see the divan, as i f fo r the first time. The entire space
has a different shape. A s Wilson puts it, the actor becomes the “witness for
the audience" o f this shift in focus and space shape. We feel the dynamics
o f attention in motion.
The actor holds this pose for an extended moment.
H e can’t stay like that. Towards w hat action will he break the stillness?
Again a new crisis is prepared fo r and the level o f arousal mounts.
“Cling”
We are about to begin anew. The turning and looking that occurs between
the two “clings” is a kind o f transition that serves as an articulation between
two main events.
H e starts a slow m ovement towards the divan; he is vigilant, as i f the divan

were sacred or dangerous. A new crisis builds.
In approaching the divan, he takes three slow-motion high steps as i f step

pin g over something. This is accompanied by loud whooshing, exhaling
sounds that crescendo.
The tension grows.
With his fourth step he straddles the divan and very very slowly lets
himself down on it, sitting astride. He then lies back against it, and
stretches out.
The tension o f the odd approach to the divan and the slow sitting down has
been progressively resolved. Arousal slowly decreases. We relax.
The theater piece continues ...
The entire piece consists of cycles of contraction and relaxation,

crisis and resolution, tension and release, and shifts in vitality
forms, in particular, variations of tension build-up and release,
as in m odern dance. These waves carry the dram a and move it.
They are the flesh of the “narrative.” They arrive one after the
other, several a minute. They are not like the long ocean swells
o f crisis-catharsis o f a Shakespearean tragedy. They are n o t

“content waves.” They are the short “process waves” of dynam
ic experience, of vitality forms that paint the unfolding feel o f a
m ental landscape.
Concerning the “translation” from inner musings to theatri
cal enactment, m any of the “translations” have to do with vital
ity forms that provide the com m on thread. For instance, lying
in bed during breakfast, W ilson periodically leaned his head
back against a pillow, while closing his eyes and then bringing
his head forward. This was his characteristic way to “say” to
himself “clear this and go on to the next.” This small act would
be largely lost on stage, so in the “translation” it becomes the
“c l i n g ” of the bell. This serves to shift the arousal and m ental
state of the audience to be readied for the next happening.
D uring the real breakfast experience, W ilson felt th a t his
thoughts were not quite getting anywhere. They were moving
along, but w ithout arriving. This feel of the thought process at
breakfast is “translated” into the actor running in circles that do
n o t arrive for a while, and only then at an unstable resolution.
W ilson progresses from the vitality dynam ics o f m en tal
m otions in his m ind at breakfast to the vitality dynam ics o f
bodily m ovem ent on stage.
Cinema
C inem a is the ultim ate m ixed art form . It can create vitality
forms through its own unique means as well as simultaneously
through any of the other art forms that operate under its r o o f -
music, the m ovem ent and gesture of the characters, theatrical
effects, visual-scenic effects, language, and narrative. These can
operate in various combinations. Cinema also has techniques,
belonging to the film m edium alone, that craft the dynamic feel
of experience. We shall confine our discussion to those markers
of vitality forms that belong uniquely to cinema.
The follow ing d iscussion relies heavily on th e w ork of

R aym ond Bellour, and in particular on an analysis entitled
“System o f a Fragm ent (on The Birds)” (Bellour, 1979). It is
interesting that Bellour does a micro-analysis of film, working
with units lasting only seconds, using stop frame, replay, fast
forward, and slow m otion - all the techniques that baby watch
ers use to analyze the “ordinary choreography” between m other
and infant (Stern, 1971, 1977,1985).
Some term inology for the technical and structural com po
nents of cinema m ay be helpful. A “frame” is a single still photo
graph. W hen a series of (usually slightly different) frames is
shown at a rate of one every split second (every 1/24 o f a second
in most, older, traditional films), it results in a continuous m ov
ing image (the “movies”). This moving image is a “shot.” Shots
last seconds, w ith an average duration of several seconds, but
w ith great variability in duration. A shot is usually, b u t not
always, the basic psychological u n it o f a film (Deleuze, 1969;
Metz, 1974;Bellour, 1979).Itcorrespondstoa“presentm om ent,”
a Gestalt of m any sequential elements lasting usually from 1 to
10 seconds, m aking up a vitality form that can be grasped in
consciousness as one “w hole” (Stern, 2004). A shot usually
begins and ends when there is a change in subject, or characters,
or place, or tim e, or cam era m ovem ent, angle, or distance.
Several shots that bear some relatedness make up what is called
a “sequence,” “segm ent,” or sometim es a “scene.” W ith that
m uch we can proceed.
What are the tools available to cinema, uniquely, in

creating vitality forms?
The framing of the picture is one such tool. The camera can be
close to or distant from the subject (long shot, m edium shot,
close shot, close up). The distance is akin to intensity. The closer
the camera, the m ore the attention is focused and arousal is
ratcheted up. Close-ups have an intrinsic force because they

violate our established body boundaries and comfortable dis
tances. They create a burst of arousal that prepares the body for
some kind of action (e.g. to touch, kiss, hit, pull back). In addi
tion, the camera can alter the distance w ithout altering the sub
ject by progressively m oving from far to close. This is the
equivalent o f a crescendo in music, where the dynamics change
from weak to strong. The rate of such a progression will deter
m ine the force o f the effect. The reverse is true for the decre
scendo of moving from close to far, leading to the sense of a step
back, a relaxation of tension, and a psychological “distancing” -
a distinct vitality form.
The camera can also rem ain still, m aking a static shot, or it
can move to follow the action of the story. Just as there is close-
distant there is static-movem ent. In m any situations (seebelow)
the camera alternates shots between close and distant, between
static and moving, and especially between subject m atter seen
in the picture frame, in what Bellour calls an “alternating narra
tive syntagm .” This perm its m any different dynam ic effects.
It forces an exclusive focus on just one slice of all that is going
on in the film. For example, the camera can focus on only the
face of an actor watching something else, where the something
else is outside the frame and unseen to the film viewer. Then in
the next shot the film viewer sees what is happening, b u t not the
face of the actor who is also watching. (There are variations of
th is.) The cam era can th e n go back an d fo rth a lte rn a tin g
betw een the tw o. (This is n o t possible in m usic o r dance.
Peripheral attention or inattention is not a substitute for “out
o f the picture.”) W hen the viewer sees the watching face of the
actor, they cannot know what is happening in the alternate shot.
They can only imagine. W hen the camera switches back to what
is happening, the viewer cannot know how it is being registered
on the face of the watcher. This can create m ore sharply defined
expectations and violations w ith their concom itant arousal

effects, dynamically m odulating the tension of anticipation.
The work of montage and editing can also build up tension by
accelerating the alternation betw een shots. This creates the
counterpart of an accelerando in music. The rate of acceleration
of the alternation is intuitively calculated in the viewer’s m ind
so that the m om ent of crisis or m eeting or collision is readily
predictable. As it approaches, the director can lift us out of our
seats by increasing the rate o f acceleration exponentially, or he
or she can play with our excitement by slowing the established
pace and retarding the predicted end-point in a variety of ways.
Alternatively, the tim ing of the vitality form and the narrative
line can be placed contrapuntally. All of these techniques play
with diverse vitality forms.
A short example from Bellour’s analysis of Hitchcock’s film
The Birds follows. W e shall focus on only a very small part of the
richness of Bellour’s m ore complete and detailed analysis, and
render it in skeletal form. W e shall take up only the theme o f a
m an and wom an about to meet, and deal only with arousal and
its vitality forms.
The story up to now is that Melanie and M itch recently first
m et at a party, and were m utually attracted. She wants to see
him again and uses the excuse of buying a b irthday present
(lovebirds) for his little sister. She drives to a pier on a small
bay, gets an outboard-m otored rowboat, and m otors across the
bay to M itch’s house. No one is there. She leaves the present
and starts back across the bay to the pier she left from. As she is
m otoring the boat back, she sees M itch return in his car. She
sees him and he sees her across a widening distance of water.
We have already been set up for a possible meeting. That narra
tive is in place. The question now is how Hitchcock is going to
contour our dynamic experience so that an ultimate meeting will
have dynam ic flesh. H ere is m y very short rendering o f the
prelude of m eeting, stripped o f all the other them es th a t are

being enacted (Bellour, 1979, pp. 44-47).
Shot no. 63. W e see M itch’s house from a m edium distance o u t o n the
w ater where M elanie’s boat is. He is driving o u t of his driveway (to m eet
her where she will land). The camera moves w ith him . He is in action.
W e do not see her.
Shot no. 64. W e see Melanie looking towards the car. She is fram ed from
waist up. Static. W e do n o t see M itch’s car moving.
Shot no. 65. A long sh o t o f w hat M elanie sees - M itc h ’s car m oving
around the bay to the place where she will land.
Shot no. 66. A nother shot o f M elanie looking at M itch’s car [the alter
nating narrative]. B ut now th e cam era has m over closer h e r im age is
larger. She is fram ed roughly from the b u st up. [Is this progression in
her size the beginning o f a crescendo in the force o f w hat is being fe lt —the
prelude to meeting?]
Shot no. 67. A nother shot o f M itch driving aro u n d the bay. The fram
ing is m uch closer now . H e is approaching. [Are two crescendos being
aligned, as in a duet?]
Shot no. 68. A gain o f M elanie in th e boat. O ne m ig h t have expected

th a t the size o f her fram ed im age (closeness) w ould have co n tin u ed
to increase w ith the anticipated m eeting w ith M itch an d the strength
o f feelings carried in th at. B ut h er im age (its fram ing) has n o t come
closer. [Is this an interruption in the progression towards meeting? Has the
progression been temporarily suspended for some reason?]
S hot no. 69. M itch ’s car is n o w m u c h closer. The cam era m oves in
further following his progress.
Shot no. 70. W e see M elanie’s face again, looking. It is now fram ed as a
close-up. The progression o f h er com ing closer has resum ed, a n d with
it the force o f her presence, and o f her anticipation.
Shots nos 71, 73, and 75. M itch gets closer and arrives.
Shots nos 72, 74, and 76. W e see M elanie’s face again. B ut she is n o t
g etting closer (i.e. fram ed closer). The progression has been halted.
[Is something else going on?]
Shots nos 77, 78, and 79. A bird swoops dow n from the sky and strikes
M elanie on the head. The altern atio n betw een shots o f M elanie and
Chapter 6
When do Vitality Forms

Begin? A Developmental
View
Treating or even thinking about young infants makes little sense

unless arousal and m ovement and its dynamics are placed at the
center. This is especially true when considering the behavior of
fetuses, preemies, and neonates. Often sensitivity to stim uli is
confused w ith vitality form s, and there is greater discussion
about sensitivity in the clinical literature. O ur central focus is on
the subjective aspects o f arousal shifts and vitality forms. W e
shall start chronologically with the objective behavioral evidence,
i.e. physical movement. This account is selective, not inclusive.
The normal fetus

M ovement begins very early in development. This supports the
idea th a t m ovem ent is p rim ary in ontology and so are the
arousal systems. Active flexion of the spine is often described as
early as 5-6 weeks of gestation. Presumably the arousal systems
are already active. Arousal-triggered behaviors can be reliably
observed as early as 10 weeks of gestation (de Vries, Visser, &
Prechtl, 1982, 1984; Piontelli, 2001, 2002, 2007). It m ust be
recalled that the cortex at this point in time is only a thin layer
of cells on the top of the brain, so no behaviors can be attrib
uted to it at this stage.
Piontelli places observable behaviors in the fetus during the

early m onths of gestation into three m ain groups: “generalized
movements,” “partial movement,” and special movements. The
generalized movements involve the relatively slow, dance-like,
diffuse turnings of head, body, arms, and legs, all together, last
ing seconds. The whole body is in m otion. These m ovements
are frequent up to 13 weeks o f gestation, and th en steadily
decline until 17 weeks, when they fall dramatically but continue
infrequently.
The “partial m ovements” are discrete movements of only one
part of the body. They are like gestures, and include touching
the umbilical cord, or the face or other body parts, turning the
head, and opening the m outh. They appear to be directional.
They are infrequent from 10 to 12 weeks and then increase until
the 14th week, by which tim e they have become far m ore fre
quent than the generalized movements.
These generalized and partial movements are not stereotypic.
They are different each tim e as if “soft assembled” depending
on the infant’s position in the wom b at that m om ent. This is
im p o rtan t because we assum e th a t they are n o t reflexes b u t
rather the result o f spontaneous activity in the arousal centers
that trigger different body parts, which are assembled in slightly
different patterns depending on the physical conditions at that
m oment.
The “special movements” include startles, hiccups, swallowing,
and breathing-like movements. The startles are particularly inter
esting. They are spontaneously generated in the brainstem
(Prechtl, 1984), and are the most frequent behavior until 13 weeks,
During these early weeks, the generalized movements are trig
gered (“propulsed,” according to Piontelli, 2007), by a preceding
startle, as if the generalized movement had to be jump-started by
a jolt of arousal in the form of a startle. Partial movements, on the
other hand, occur without triggering by startles (Prechtl, 1984).
WHEN DO VITALITY FORMS BEGIN? A DEVELOPMENTAL VIEW | 103
W here in all this amazing m ovem ent can one find a hint of
the experience o f vitality forms? Evidence for some form o f
intentionality would provide a clue. However, these early move
ments appear to be “ballistic.” All the “thrownness” o f the ini
tial impulse to move dissipates or ends with no course correction
or refining en route. However, there is no route in the sense o f
a goal that needs to be reached. There appears to be no inten
tionality at first. There is an endpoint, however, provided by the
anatom y or the environment. W hen the legs stretch o ut or kick
they can only extend as far as the leg is long (and it is relatively
very short compared with an older fetus) or it meets the uterine
wall and stops. M oreover, the violence of ballistic action is
attenuated by the liquid medium.
By 16 weeks, it is clear that localized movements, particularly
of the hands and arms, start to become progressively m ore con
toured to flow as if there was a goal that needed to be adjusted
to. The hand-to-face gesture is no longer so ballistic. It is shaped
to arrive at a goal. One can see a deceleration as the target is
reached. Prospective control o f m ovem ent starts to appear
(Zoia et al., 2007). The m other of an 18-week-old fetus came in
for a repeated echo (her last one was 2 weeks before at 16 weeks).
The pregnancy was norm al. However, on seeing the m onitor
when the echo started, the first thing the m other said was how
m uch sm oother and m ore flowing the fetus’s m ovem ent was
(Piontelli, personal communication).
It is at this p o in t th a t one feels on m ore secure ground in
speaking o f “an in te n tio n ” and a “course-correcting m echa
nism ” that shapes the act. It is only now that one can begin to
th ink o f vitality forms. However, m ore m aturation o f higher
centers and greater interconnectivity will be required for a base
from which m ore elaborated vitality forms can emerge.
At this point, we would not know where to look in the central
nervous system to find out when vitality forms come on line.
Probably proprioception, goal-directed intentionality, and pre

vitality forms are created together and will remain tied together
for life.
To summarize this point, it is not clear when one can speak of
the beginning of vitality forms (and felt aliveness). Movement,
p roprioception, and in ten tio n ality are all crucial elem ents.
However, we know nothing of the integrative leap to a Gestalt
that leads to the subjective experience of vitality.
Towards the th ird trim ester o f pregnancy, a different phe
nom enon provides m ore clues about the emergence of vitality
forms. At about 6-7 m onths of gestation, when the fetus begins
to perceive external sounds, either one of two melodies is played
(experim ent 1), or alternatively the m other’s voice or another
wom an’s voice saying exactly the same words (experiment 2) is
played to the fetus (i.e. to the belly of the m other). This is done
every day for m onths. Then, right after birth, the neonate, only
hours old, shows th at he can recognize the m elody or voice
presented to him while still a fetus (DeCasper & Fifer, 1980;
DeCasper & Spence, 1986). This requires that the sounds heard
in utero were perceived and registered in m em ory (before birth),
and later (right after b irth ) recalled in some fashion. T hat
requires some level of awareness and representation of vitality
forms of the sound while still in the womb. Unless the baby, as
b oth fetus and neonate, is attentive to vitality forms, it would
n o t be possible for him to distinguish a particular voice (his
m other’s) from the voices of other wom en saying exactly the
same words in the same pitch range. This he can do.1
A closely related story can be traced in studying the ontogeny
of sleep in preemies and neonates. M ost pertinent here is that
em erging activity-rest cycles are the product o f “generalized
arousal” and n ot the “special ascending arousal pathways” that
probably control the “partial m ovem ents” m entioned above.
WHEN DO VITALITY FORMS BEGIN? A DEVELOPMENTAL VIEW | 1
These larger pattern s are endogenous and start to organize

before 30 weeks o f gestation (Parmelee & Stern, 1972; Prechtl,
1984; Anders & Keener, 1985).2
In short, the story of fetal behavior is in large part the story of
the developm ent o f the arousal systems and their initiation of
m ovem ent and state change. These prepare the terrain for the
later emergence of vitality forms.
The premature infant

Als et al. (1994), Field (2003), and others have revealed to the field
o f developmental pediatrics the particular fragilities of the pre
m ature infant in dealing with stimulation and arousal tolerance.
W ith detailed observation, drawn from the work with Brazelton’s
Neonatal Assessment Scale (see below), Als and colleagues have
shown that the average prem ature intensive-care unit is mala-
dapted to the arousal thresholds of preemies. The lights are too
bright, the noises are too loud, and likewise for tactile and kines
thetic stimuli. For example, the decibel level in an incubator is
extremely high, particularly when there is assisted breathing with
air swooshing in and out, the lights are on all the time so that the
staff can see the preemie 24 hours a day, the nurses and doctors
come and go to visit the preemie on their own required schedule,
at their speed, etc. And the baby is now subject to gravity.
Als and colleagues docum ented all the signs of a stressed reg
ulatory system for arousal. These include subtle signs, such as
hiccoughing or going blue around the m outh, which usually go
unnoticed. W hat makes regulation even harder for a preemie is
that they do not readily habituate, so they rem ain vulnerable to
the repetitive stimuli in the environm ent. In short, trapped in
this nightm are, the preemies expend large am ounts of energy
protecting themselves from exceeding their arousal tolerance.
Fighting against overarousal becomes a vital function.3
The neonate
In the neonate, extensive research and clinical efforts are cen
tered on the baby’s regulation o f arousal. Among the first and
best kn o w n is the N e o n a tal B ehavioral A ssessm ent Scale
(NBAS). This scale is designed to evaluate the baby’s individual
capabilities, as well as their ability and style o f regulating the
level of arousal in various stimulation contexts (visual, auditory,
and tactile) (Brazelton, 1973; B razelton, N ugent, & Lester,
1987). The baby’s responses to each stim ulus, including the
changes in his state, are quantified. His capacity to habituate
and dishabituate represents im portant items on the scale. It is
w orth n oting th at all o f the baby’s “answers” consist o f his
m ovem ents. The dynam ic quality o f the m ovem ents further
specifies the “answer.”
The scale is used aro u n d the w orld to get a picture o f the
baby’s stim ulus tolerance and style of arousal regulation. It is
also used clinically, as a p sy c h o d ev e lo p m e n tal-p ed ia tric
approach to help parents to learn the baby’s “language” and to
deal w ith his individuality in the light o f their expectations
(Bruschweiler-Stern, 2000).4
The early social life of the baby

In the time period from roughly 2xh m onths to about 6 m onths
of age, the baby’s repertoire starts to include social vocalizations
and facial expressions that are responsive to his parent’s behav
ior. The baby suddenly becomes a real partner. The p a re n t-
in fa n t in te ra c tio n s becom e m u tu a l a n d in fin ite ly richer.
Face-to-face play becomes the main “game.” The eyes, face, vocal
izations, gestures, and body tonus take center stage. Social play
(face to face) then becomes one of the best windows for quickly
obtaining a privileged view of the clinical situation. It reveals when
parenting is easy or hard, natural or forced, intrusive, controlling,
WHEN DO VITALITY FORMS BEGIN? A DEVELOPMENTAL VIEW 1
disorganized, passive, aggressive, rejecting, etc. This can then

guide treatment. Many authors have described such interactions
in detail, including Stern (1971, 1977, 1985, 1990), Brazelton,
Koslowski, & M ain (1974), Trevarthen (1977), Brazelton (1973,
1982), Trevarthen & Hubley (1978), Tronick et al. (1978), Beebe
(1982), Tronick (1989), Fogel (1993), Stern & Bruschweiler-
Stern (1998), Beebe et al. (2005a,b), and m any others.
In w hat sense are arousal and vitality form s at the center?
W hen paren t and infant play, the stim uli for the baby come
from the m o th e r’s eyes, face, body, and voice. Parents are a
“sound-light show” for the baby, a spectacle to play upon their
states of arousal. To understand how this works, a central sim
ple psychological principle m ust be kept in mind. As a stimulus
gets stronger, the arousal that it evokes gets greater. In addition,
the emotional coloring of the arousal gets stronger. The stim u
lus can be visual, auditory, tactile, or just the degree o f novelty
or intensity of expectation. The same principle applies to all.
There are two im portant aspects o f this principle in real life.
First, if the stim ulus strength is too low, the infant will not be
very aroused and will rem ain u ninterested and inattentive.
W hen the stim ulus is too strong and the arousal too high, it is
aversive and the infant will try to tu rn it dow n or off. Babies
learn their own special repertoire of behaviors to regulate stim
uli th at are too intense. They can simply tu rn their head away
from the stimulus (which can feel like a rejection to the parent),
or they can look straight at you but focus on the horizon. (This
looking through you is an early form of selective inattention,
perhaps even denial. It can drive parents to phantasies o f an
autistic child, or of their non-existence in the baby’s eyes.) Some
babies become experts in suddenly falling asleep.
These are wide swings in arousal to downregulate their level
of arousal. O ther babies become overloaded, their regulatory
system fails, and they cry. These are the anlage o f defenses
and coping m echanism s. They are necessary experiences for

life (Stern, 1971, 1977, 1985). Moreover, they have distinctive
vitality forms.
The baby will be optim ally aroused to play and be happy in
the zone a short time before he gets overstimulated. To keep the
baby in this optimal zone for play, the parent m ust adjust their
behavior, i.e. the stimulus value of their “sound-light show,” of
the form s of vitality perform ed, m ust be not too low and not
too high.
So far we have discussed only the absolute level of the paren
tal stimulation. Equally im portant are the vitality forms used in
arriving at a given strength and in shifting it up and down. For
instance, when m others speak to their babies, they use a p ar
ticular prosody, “motherese” (Stern et ah, 1983; Fernald, 1984;
Papousek, 1996). (Prosody, from our point of view, is the flow
o f vitality form s.) H er pitch range becom es expanded. The
musical elements are exaggerated, the speed is slower, the stress
es m ore marked, etc. The same can be observed in her games
and in the quality of her “sound-light show” in general. W ithout
these vitality forms babies are m uch less engaged, if at all.
H ab ituation is the second real-life aspect of the nature of
arousal. Babies habituate rapidly, i.e. they respond less and less
to a stimulus that is repeated, even if that stimulus was perfect
the first tim e and aroused the baby optimally, and even caused
a big smile. By the third or fourth tim e the parent does the same
thing the baby will be disinterested. Habituation determines the
basic structure of social interactive games with babies. To get
around habituation and avoid a fall-off in the baby’s arousal,
the parent m ust almost constantly change or vary their stimula
tion, i.e. behavior (like the vitality forms of Beethoven’s theme).
The result is a them e-and-variation form at of vitality forms.5
Some games are alm ost purely a play on vitality form , e.g.
sudden almost explosive movements of the m other to tickle, or
W H EN DO V IT A LIT Y FORM S BEGIN ? A D EV ELO PM EN TA L V IE W j 1
progressively slowing down her m ovements to tease anticipa

tion and ratchet up excitement while preparing for the “punch
line,” or staccato patting to increase arousal, or slow contouring
movements to calm. There is a whole world of vitality forms to
play with.
Development of neurobiological aspects

of arousal
The neuroscientific thinking and evidence are largely concord
ant w ith the behavioral findings described above. Hughlings
Jackson (1931) p ut forth the idea that the structures laid down
earliest, such as the brainstem, progressively expand and become
integrated into the m ore complex organization of the higher
centers as these are laid down later. The tem poral development
o f the b rain is an ascending process in b o th evolution and
ontogeny. Schore (2003) contributes to and reviews this hierar
chical model, starting with Hughlings Jackson’s idea. In brief,
Luria (1980) and then Luu & Tucker (1996) proposed that the
later developing frontal cortical areas o f the b rain regulate
arousal th ro u g h in h ib ito ry and facilitating processes th a t
em erge during the first year o f life. This opens the door for
social influences to act on the developm ent of this regulatory
process during the form ative first year of life. It also opens a
door for the arousal systems to function largely unregulated by
frontal cortical areas, at least for a period of early postnatal life
(see also Dubowitz et a l, 1986).
At birth, only the amygdala (involved in em otional regula
tion) is on line to regulate brainstem arousal systems (Chugani,
1996). It m atures rapidly over the first 2 m onths after birth.
Therefore it is little open to early social influence. The cerebral
cortex does n o t start to m ature rapidly u ntil the eighth week
postpartum , when a general psychobiological developm ental
leap occurs (Emde & Harm on, 1984; Yamada et a l, 2000), and
0 FORMS OF VITALITY
it then goes through a critical period of growth from roughly 10

to 18 m onths (Schore, 2004).
These data come mostly from observations o f postnatal devel
opment. Nonetheless, it is generally supportive of the ideas and
findings already described, nam ely an early independence of
the arousal systems from regulation by higher centers; the
remarkable specificity of the arousal systems acting w ithout or
with m inimal cortical regulation, and the openness of the early
developing nervous system to social and cultural influence.
Finally, we come back to the view of the prim acy of m ove
m ent and its dynamic features as the developmental infrastruc
ture for what will follow.
Further questions about the experience and

representation of vitality forms
in development
An initial question arises. W hy did nature plan for babies not to
speak and not to understand words for the first year or so of their
lives? O ur answer would be, infants have too m uch to learn about
the basic processes and structures of interpersonal exchange. In
particular, they have to learn the forms of dynamic flow that
carry social behaviors. In addition, they have to learn this before
language arrives to mess it all up. The basic structures are all
non-verbal, analogic, dynamic Gestalts that are n ot compatible
with the discontinuous, digital, categorical nature of words.
W hat does the baby have to learn in these first 12-18 months?
The list includes what you do with your eyes when with another,
how long to hold a m utual gaze, what turn-off head movements
work, and with whom, how close you should let the other come
to you and at what speeds (or you to them , and what distance
for whom ), what you do with your face (and with whom ), how
to kiss, how to read body positions, how to solicit another for
W H EN DO V ITA LITY FORMS BEG IN ? A D EV ELO PM EN TA L V IE W I 1 H
food, for physical contact, or to play, what the rules of “peek-a-

boo” or “I’m gonna get-cha” are, how to enter into tu rn taking
when vocalizing with another, how to greet or not greet your
m other for a reunion when she returns after a separation, and
how to joke around, negotiate, escalate, back off, and express
affection, m ake friends, and so on. M uch of this knowledge
heavily involves vitality forms.
W e have term ed such knowledge implicit relational knowing.
It is non-conscious and non-verbal. Karlen Lyons-Ruth (1998)
and the Boston Change Process Study Group (BCPSG, 2002)
(of which I am a member) have addressed this rich dom ain that
infants m u st m aster to get on in their interpersonal worlds.
Defining implicit relational knowing has drawn on distinctions
made by m any cognitive psychologists, which we have adapted
to apply to the relational domain.
The vitality form s of interpersonal happenings are part of
im plicit relational knowing. One needs m uch dynamic infor
m ation to recognize how someone moves, how they get angry
and when their anger will crest, or concerning their attention,
when are they really, fully “there,” etc.
The suggestion is as follows. In the earliest stages o f life, the
in fa n t is first or p red o m in an tly sensible to vitality form s.
M ovement is the m ost prim ary event and the m ost salient, but
m ovem ent does n o t com e alone. M ovem ent takes tim e to
unfurl. It necessarily traces a tem poral profile. And once the
infant has experienced intentional action and effort, even in a
primitive form, m otion will be imbued with force. The elements
for generating the Gestalt of dynamic vitality forms are present
i.e. m ovem ent and her four daughters.
Along w ith this, the infant early on is largely m ultim odal.
Experience is m ultisensory because the qualitative aspects o f
the m odalities are n o t yet fully discrim inated. However, the
vitality forms are. If this were so, stimulation from any sensory
2 FORMS OF VITALITY
modality would first be experienced as a dynamic flow of move

ment, contoured in time, im bued with force, and with an inten
tional direction. T hat is to say, it w ould be a vitality form , a
Gestalt of the fundam ental dynamic pentad.
Vitality forms could thus exist for the very young, b u t with
m ultim odal content. This notion picks up on ideas m entioned
above, such as a “sensori-tonic field” (W erner & W apner,
1949).
These ideas raise another question. Do fetuses and young
infants have, or even need, modality-specific sensory inform a
tion in the womb or right after birth? Such inform ation could
be acquired after birth w ith appropriate experience th at cul
tures need to sculpt. This idea is compatible with the new find
ings o n m u ltis e n s o ry n e u ro n s (see above) a n d general,
interconnectivity within the brain.
Stimuli can be divided into mainly static stimuli (or stepwise
sequential) and continuously changing dynamic stimuli. We
would expect the dynamic stimuli to be in place first develop-
m entally, and th e static stim u li to be differen tiated later.
However, while this is often true, it is not universally so. Some
static stimuli are slower to develop. For example, only at about
2 m onths of age can infants discriminate color, when brightness
is controlled (Bornstein, 1981). Small changes in musical ampli
tude (of 10 decibels) cannot be discriminated until 5-8 m onths
(Olsho et al., 1982). On the other hand, different smells, like
their own m o th e r’s m ilk, are discrim inated days after b irth
(MacFarlane, 1975), b u t n o t necessarily at birth before they
have had several exposures to this smell. The taste of sweetness
and perhaps bitterness can be discrim inated at birth from the
other basic tastes. However, young infants appear not to dis
crim inate between salt and sour (Rosenstein & Oster, 1988).
Infants aged only 1 m onth can discrim inate the syllables /ba/
and /pa/. These appear to be categorical differences, b u t a closer
look shows that they are micro-dynamic, having to do with the

rise tim e of sound in “plosives” (the “p ” and “b ”) (Eimas, et al.,
1971). The situation is complicated in that different modalities
may have different timetables for discrim ination among static
stimuli because of anatomic, physiologic, and evolutionary fac
tors as well as how they are “psychologically” packaged. Still,
the possibility exists that for m any modalities the dynamic fea
tures m ay be psychologically registered very early and, m ost
importantly, before the static features.
But does a fetus have or even need modality-specific sensory
inform ation in the w om b or right after birth? Such inform a
tion could be acquired after birth with appropriate experience.
This is compatible with the new findings on m ultisensory neu
rons (see above) a n d general in terco n n ectiv ity w ith in the
brain.
Relative to this line of thinking, the right side of the neonate’s
brain is the m ore dom inant side (Chiron e ta l, 1997). Moreover,
it is know n th at the right side is better for holistic, synthetic,
and multisensory tasks (Schore, 2004).
This does n o t adequately explain the nature of early n o n
verbal representations, except to suggest th a t they are built
around a central core of vitality forms. We shall have to wait for
research advances to understand this further.
Another take on vitality forms in infancy

In C hapter 3, I suggested the n o tio n of “affect attu n em en t”
(vitality form matching), where the m other uses her own behav
ior to m atch the vitality form of the infant. It is a partial and
“purposely” selective kind of imitation. She imitates faithfully
the dynamic features, b u t with a different content in a different
modality. The concept o f affect attunem ent has been widely
used as clinically helpful, but it has often been confounded with
FORMS OF VITALITY
m aternal sensitivity, appropriateness, or “good m othering.”

It is certainly part of all these, but has a m ore restricted sense.
Affect attunem ent reflects the m other’s attem pt to share the
infant’s subjective experience, n o t his actions. Alm ost every
thing the baby does traces some dynamic form. The m other’s
frequent attuning re-establishes the inter subjective field b et
ween them, using vitality forms.
The distinction between dynamic features and the content/
m odality features becomes useful here. In affect attunem ent,
the m other matches the dynamic features of how the baby acted.
This assures the baby that she grasps what he did. However, she
does not match the content and modality of the infant’s action.
Instead, she makes her own choice of m odality and content.
This assures the baby that she understood, within herself, w h a t,
it felt like to do what he did. It is not an imitation, because she
put it “into her own words” - it carries her signature. It is some
thing she felt, too. She wants a matching o f inner states.
This m ay sound complicated, b u t parents have the intuitive
sensibility and empathy to do all this without thinking.
There is also “u n d e r-attu n em en t” and “over-attunem ent”
(Stern, 1985). For example, a child expresses delight in using a
toy machine gun found in a friend’s house, and lets out a yelp
of joy. If the m other is not delighted but does not want to squash
his enthusiasm entirely, or censor him in public, she can under-
attune. In this situation, if the child’s yelp was quite intense
and prolonged, she can let out a sound th a t is considerably
lower in intensity and o f slightly shorter duration. In other
w ords, she “p u rp o sely ” m ism atches the dynam ic features
and returns a vitality form to the child that says “I am not as
enthusiastic about that machine gun as you are - in fact, I dis
courage it, b u t I do u n d erstan d th a t you are enthusiastic.”
Similarly, “over-attunem ent” can encourage as m uch as “under-
attunem ent” can discourage.
In this fashion, the m atching/m ism atching of vitality forms

can shape what the infant does and how he feels about doing it.
It is like sculpting his m ind from the inside out. It is a powerful
tool in the parent’s ongoing socialization of the infant into the
family and wider culture. It has another advantage. It is well
suited for negotiations. It is not a set of rules. It opens the door
to the diplom atic dealings that characterize the compromises
about w hat you can and cannot do, and w here are the real
lim its to be set in d iffe re n t contexts. These n e g o tia tio n s
are essential for learning some degree o f subtleness in ordinary
dealings w ith others. V itality form s play a large p a rt in all
of this.
Indeed, one could imagine that affect attunem ent could play
an im portant part in the “clinical” shaping of behavior. Markova
& Legerstee (2006) asked what kinds of m aternal responses are
m ost successful in prom oting infant social awareness and posi
tive responsiveness. Three different theories frequently referred
to suggested different answers. The authors compared m aternal
“contingency,” “im itation,” and “affect sharing” (affect attune
m ent) at 5 and 13 weeks of infant age.
Contingency is the m odel suggested by the work of Gergely &
W atso n (1999) and Gergely et al. (1995). “C on tin g en cy ”
describes the m other responding consistently to infant behavior
with faithful imitations within a temporally defined delay. They
found that until about 12 weeks, infants are m ore attracted to
m aternal stim uli that are perfectly contingent with their own
behavior. After 12 weeks, infants respond socially more to m ater
nal responses that have high but not perfect contingency - that
are “nearly, b u t clearly not, m e,” thus shifting the focus from
self to the other.
Secondly, M eltzoff & Gopnik (1993) and others suggest that
m aternal im itation (not necessarily tightly contingent) would
interest and please infants most.
The third model is that of affect attunem ent (matching vital

ity forms). The focus is on the inner state. This is best seen in
spontaneous interactions.
The results of the controlled study by M arkova & Legerstee
(2006) showed th a t the condition o f affect attunem ent p ro
duced m ore gazing time at the m other, m ore smiles, m ore pos
itive vocalizations, and fewer negative vocalizations compared
with the condition of contingency or the imitation condition.
Such a result is not surprising in light of all the work, cited
above, on the nature of spontaneous parental behavior in inter
actions, and its evolutionary fittedness for the preferences and
sensibilities o f infants.
The virtue o f spontaneous m aternal behavior (when carried
out “well enough”) is its richness in dynamic features, its alive-
ness, and vitality. There is alm ost no behavior on the baby’s
p a rt th a t c a n n o t be a ttu n e d to. A ccordingly, for so m any
stretches of the interaction, affect attunem ent (matched vitality
forms) creates a running dialogue underneath the behaviors,
inside of which the m other’s real evaluations are revealed. It is
interesting how m aternal interactions with a newborn can lead
to relatively prolonged m om ents of m utual regard. These events
are called “neonatal m om ents of m eeting.” They activate and
reinforce the attachm ent process (Bruschweiler-Stern, 2009).
The role of vitality forms in early development is pervasive.
Notes
1. Voices differ along several prosodic features, e.g. timbre. However, differences
in the vitality forms used are evident even when saying the same words at the
same pitch. The case is more complex for different melodies.
2. The timing of sleep-wake cycles grows out of the rest-activity cycles under
environmental influence. Sleep problems account for far and away the
majority of visits for behavioral reasons during the first two years of life. The
underlying problems can be several, in fact many, such as disturbances in the
parent-infant relationship, particularly attachment problems, as well as
marital difficulties, emotional dysregulation, temperament, cultural practices,
WHEN DO VITALITY FORMS BEGIN? A DEVELOPMENTAL VIEW
the physical setting of sleep, and so on. Nonetheless, the final common
pathway for these problems runs through the arousal system, and it is
ultimately expressed in sleep disturbances. Most often sleep disturbances are
like having a fever - a sign that something else is wrong.
Because the arousal system and sleep are the final common pathway for so
many diverse currents that flow through, they provide large clinical windows
on the infant and his or her world (e.g. Anders, 1994). Sleep is a vast clinical
subject that is beyond the purview of this book.
3. To help the preemies, Als devised a scale, known as the Neurodevelopmental
Individualized Care and Assessment Program (NICAP), to evaluate the cost of
energy expended by the preemie for arousal regulation (Als, 1984; Als et al
1994). This permitted her to effect a series of changes in the intensive-care
units. These changes all involved reducing the ambient stimulus environment
to better control the preemies’ states of arousal. The changes that were
implemented are now used in many units around the world.
Related to these changes is the use of “kangaroo care” (“skin-to-skin care”),
where the preemie spends as much time as possible in the parent’s arms, skin
to skin, wrapped together. They are treated this way even with tubes
connected to them while in the parent’s arms. A living hum an being is a far
better ambient stimulus environment than an incubator. When these changes
are put in place, it is clearly demonstrated that the preemie’s time in the
incubator, and their hospital stay, are shortened, They gain weight faster and
have a lower morbidity (Hernandez-Reif & Field, 2000; Field, 2003). Again,
arousal is the key.
4. During this first year of life, maternal speech and vocalizations (motherese or
baby talk) are a “hidden source of musical stimulation” with all its possibilities
for different forms of vitality (Papousek, 1996).
Chapter 7
What Implications do Forms

of Vitality Have for Clinical
Theory and Practice?
A brief historical note m ay help to set the stage. W hy are vitality

forms not m ore directly addressed in clinical theory and practice?
After all, these forms are experienced all the tim e by therapists
and patients, in themselves or in the other, consciously or non-
consciously. The evolution of the branch o f talking psycho
therapies originating in psychoanalysis sheds light on this
question. W hy did psychoanalysis develop as a “one-person
psychology,” i.e. as having a disproportionately large interest in
the intra-psychic, at the expense of the inter-psychic? W hy was
the therapeutic relationship conceived o f as prim arily a m ani
festation of the illness (the “neurosis”) o f the patient? W hy was
a sharp cleavage established between talking and acting, and
betw een verbal and nonverbal, and w hy was the w ord, the
sym bolic, given such a rem arkably elevated and p ro tected
status? And in the same vein, why were m ost movement-related
therapies split off from the talking therapies for so long, and
initially assigned m ainly to handicapped or autistic patients as
second-class treatments? These questions are.all interrelated.
W hen Freud was creating psychoanalysis, he ran into a poten
tially disastrous problem . Several of his disciples were having
rom antic and sexual relationships w ith their psychoanalytic
patients. Such behavior threatened the therapeutic fram e as
Freud conceived of it. Also, and of great im portance, he was
concerned that such “acting in ” and “acting out” (of the ses
sion) w ould be ruinous for the reputation o f psychoanalysis
within the medical com m unity in Vienna. At the time, the rep
utation was not on a solid base. W ithin this context he wrote
the “technical papers” (Freud, 1915, 1918). The m ajor points
were that the psychoanalyst should m aintain “abstinence” with
regard to the patient, and the therapist should act “like a surgeon”
in maintaining emotional neutrality and be in the position of a
“third-party” observer and actor who “uncovers” the workings of
another’s mind, in an uncontaminated field. (Freud also had the
genius to identify transference and countertransference at the
heart of the problem, with Ferencyz’s help.) These two phenom
ena then became bedrocks of the psychoanalytic endeavor.
M ovement in general, and “acting” in particular, were left at
the wayside (at least clinically), and all forms o f verbalization
were privileged.
Since the formative period of “classical” psychoanalysis, psy
chotherapy (including m ost psychoanalytic approaches) has
evolved greatly over the past several decades (e.g. Cooper, 2005;
Person, Cooper, 8c Gabbard, 2005). M ajor issues have shifted.
Some of the current issues today include the following:
♦ How can we conceive of the clinical role of a more widely
conceived therapeutic relationship, a more relational
approach? W here are its limits, and where is intersubjec
tivity to be placed in this enlarged role?
♦ Moreover, in a related vein, what is the nature of implicit
compared with explicit knowledge and memory? Is explicit
knowledge in the form of verbal interpretations needed
for change, or are changes brought about largely through
relationship experience?
♦ W hat is the optimal balance between working on the past
and in the “here and now”?
WHAT IMPLICATIONS DO FORMS OF VITALITY HAVE?
♦ W hat is the nature o f body concepts and their role in pro

viding an infrastructure for language and verbal concepts?
In addition, what do we m ean clinically by an “embodied
m ind”?
♦ W hat level o f observation and therapeutic action is currently
m ost needed? Is it m icro-observation of behavior at the
“local level,” or m ore abstracted notions such as narratives,
or a m ore phenomenological perspective, or a more
relational and inter subjective focus?
Given this slow revolution-rapid evolution in the field, can we
see m ore clearly the roles played by the dynamic experience of
vitality forms? A closer look at vitality in the clinical context will
help to reframe some of the basic shifts that are now under way.
Some of the roles played by vitality forms

in psychotherapy
Vitality form s and spontaneous talking
The deaf and the blind find it very difficult to acquire the amenities of
conversation ... They cannot distinguish the tone o f the voice or, w ith
o u t assistance, go up and down the gam ut o f tones th at give significance
to words; n o r can they watch the expression o f the speaker’s face, and a
look is often the very soul o f w hat one says.
H elen Keller (1902, p. 23)
I shall start with spontaneous speech, as that is by far the m ain

activity of talking therapies. It is the defining aspect of these
therapies both practically and theoretically. It deserves the first
look. Let us then consider the dynamic features of the action
and process o f unscripted spontaneous talking as it occurs in
m ost therapies. For the following discussion, it m ust be held in
m ind that speech production requires physical (as well as mental)
movement. The voice is an instrument involving voluntary move
ments of the vocal chords, tongue, mouth, lips, breathing, etc.
Spontaneous spoken language sounds hum an, compared with

a robot, because it is richly dynamic. The prosody o f speech
consisting of melody, stress, volume modulation, vocal tension,
etc. creates forms of vitality. These let the listener know that the
speaker is a living person and w hat is “really” m eant by what
they say in words at that m om ent. The difference between the
words as spoken here and now, and as they exist generalized in
dictionaries and the “official” language, is a fertile field for
understanding hum an social behavior (e.g. see Crystal’s classical
text on “The English tone of voice” (Crystal, 1975) and Lacan’s
distinction between la parole and la langue (Lacan, 1953)).
Secondly, there is the m otive to talk. The listener feels the
ongoing action of the intention through the vitality forms of its
expression. Thirdly, in spontaneous speech there is a kind of
imprecise, messy, hit-and-m iss work to find the “right” words
to communicate what one wishes. This messy work is visible or
hearable by the listener and made manifest in the forms o f vital
ity used.
Here is an example. Suppose a patient says, “I’ve told this
story so often that it has become the reality of what happened ...
I even sort of believe it ... but it isn’t what really happened ...
W hat really happened was ... .” The therapist will naturally be
interested in what “really” happened, and will explore why the
distorted first version was needed. However, if the therapist
waits and first focuses on the vitality forms and experience of
the telling, not its verbal im port, he or she can take a different
path that m ight go further, faster, or elsewhere. The therapist
could say (if it were true), “You said that with such a rush, like it
was being held in prison and finally burst out” (i.e. its form of
vitality). This m ight lead to the patient telling of the forces that
created the revision in the first place.
Alternatively, if the patient spoke differently w ith different
form s o f vitality, the therapist m ight say, “You said th at so
WHAT IMPLICATIONS DO FORMS OF VITALITY HAVE? 1
hesitantly, like walking in the dark across an unknow n room,

like you were afraid of bum ping into som ething.” This m ight
evoke the patient’s fears of being punished or h u rt or hum ili
ated by revealing the real story. In other words, the experience
of the defenses in the form of vitality forms can be evoked well
before exploring the explicit conflict leading to the defenses.
This focus on the dynamics of telling will, in fact, facilitate the
exploration of the conflictual content.
In short, the focus is on the vitality forms of how the patient
expressed himself, n o t the strict sense o f the words. If that is
fruitful, the patient will him self directly get to why the “real
version” was disguised. In addition, the patient will get a first
hand experience of how his defenses operate and what the ther
apeutic relationship can tolerate and contain.
In unscripted speech, there is something in m ind that wants
expressing. Let us call this “something in m ind” an image, in the
broadest sense o f the term. The image can be an idea, a move
m ent, a gesture, an em otion, a vitality form, or a background
feeling. Usually none of these are initially in a verbal form. Now
comes the messy work of fashioning spontaneous speech. There
is an intention to link the image (the “something in m ind”) to
words. For almost each phrase, the intention enters into a dynam
ic dialogue with the speaker’s repertoire of pieces of language to
find the best fits. This is an “intentional unfolding process,”
where intention and language are yoked. Emergent properties
form . New linkages are created, tentatively accepted, revised,
rejected, reintroduced in a different form, and mixed with all the
other creative products of the intention-unfolding process. This
process, which usually takes several seconds, is unpredictable,
messy, widely distributed in the body and m ind, and usually
involves conscious and unconscious bodily happenings.
This nonlinear process is perhaps what makes us most hum an.
It would include how the word search is performed, with what
deliberation or rising excitement, and with what burst of enthu

siasm or calm when it “catches” a word. It is a process that can
rush forward, hesitate, stop, restart gently, etc. It can express
itself in various forms of the repertoire of vitality.
Even after the w ord is chosen and o ut there in public space,
it can be partially taken back, and revised or deleted as the talker
stum bles forw ard w ith m ore or less grace and coherence.
(It does n o t m atter whether there is a “right” fit. O ften none
exists. It only has to be good enough for effective comm unica
tion.) It is these dynamic qualities that give the impression of an
“inhabited body” - that is alive, now. W ithout these dynamic
vitality features o f the intention-unfolding process we would
n ot experience a vital hum an being behind the words that are
being said.
This body/m ind dialogue of implicit experiencing along with
reflective-verbal processing makes it possible for a psychoana
lyst and his or her patient on the couch, not even seeing each
other face to face, to know m uch of the implicit and to share an
inter subjective space (BCPSG, 2010).
A distinction is required here. There seems to be a difference
(felt at least) between a m ore or less conscious and clearly non-
conscious intentionality. The idea of an “intentional unfolding
process” is appropriate if one imagines that an initial intention
was som ehow conscious, or very close to consciousness. The
sheet of paper on which the initial intention is “written,” even if
faintly or in code, only has to be unfolded to read the original.
Indeed, m any in ten tio n s feel this way. However, for m any
others it is n ot so clear that there was ever a well-formed origi
nal intention. In these cases, the term “initial intention” should
be replaced with the term “initial tendency.” There is no initial
intention to be revealed by unfolding, but rather there is a ten
dency for action that m ust be specified. The original meaning of
intention gets partially lost, i.e. the “aim ing” of the intention
WHAT IMPLICATIONS DO FORMS OF VITALITY HAVE? | 1
toward the “intentional object.” Tendencies do not have a clear

target. They im ply soft-assem bled specific actions th a t were
unpredictable and never “w ritten,” a priori, b u t which find a
goal and are fitted en route from m om ent to m oment.
For this process, a better term m ight be the “in te n tio n a l
emerging process.” The role o f the body, perception, and the
ongoing dialogue between all of the factors gives vitality forms
m ore room to interact a la Merleau-Ponty (1962).
The sharp distinction as just proposed m ay be unnecessary,
even unhelpful. Phenomenologically there seems to be a spec
tru m betw een in te n tio n s an d tendencies and accordingly
between “unfolding” and “emerging” processes. It rem ains to
be seen how this felt spectrum is handled neuroscientifically.
The notions o f the primacy of movement, an embodied mind,
vitality form s and the idea of goal-directed m ovem ent being
“soft assem bled” on the spot to m eet the im m ediate context
m ay help to ease this conundrum . The nuances of soft assem
blage require that vitality forms do the job of fine-tuning to the
found context. Suppose that m ost or even m any goals are n ot
only hazy and inexact to begin w ith - m ore like tendencies.
They may also rem ain non-conscious until they scream at you
and are specified through reflection or action.
N ot to be forgotten, the process o f talking involves another
person, a partner in dialogue. The two find their way in a rap
idly changing field. The person listening has their own shifting
vitality experiences, which are a crucial part o f the field. In other
words, there was never an exactly specified goal. There were
tendencies in search o f a finality. M oreover, on the way, they
found a series of evolving goals and intentions that were con
stantly updated and changing.
O ur clinical view is generally lim ited because we tend to con
sider events when they are completed and seen retrospectively
(after the session, w hen they can be talked about). From this
vantage point it seems reasonable to imagine that a specific ini

tial state somehow found the means to arrive at a predestined
end state. However, when an event is viewed while it is still ongo
ing and unfinished, neither the initiating state nor the end state
is so clear. W e move from an inquiry about intentions, means,
and goal states to an inquiry about processes of creation, emerg
ing, and becom ing. The w ork o f the Boston Change Process
Study Group (BCPSG) has attempted to focus on this (BCPSG,
2005a, b, 2008).
Further pursuit of this line is beyond the scope of this book.
Suffice it to say that vitality forms in spontaneous speech reveal
m uch of what is underneath unscripted language.
There are other perspectives on the issue of spontaneous
speech and what m ental entities lie “behind” or “alongside” it.
David M cNeill (2005) introduces the concept o f the im age/
gesture to refer to all the bodily shapings of spoken thought. He
sees spoken language as consisting of two components of equal
generativity and im portance. First, there is language, which is
usually conceived of as a m ore or less static structure. Secondly,
there is a dynamic process that he calls the image-gesture process.
Superficially, this dynamic process consists of the gesticulations
that are synchronous w ith speech. He points out that spoken
speech is inhabited by the body moving in time, including facial
expressions and head nods. Similarly, while gestures have their
own isolated morphology, in real speech they become shaped
by im agery and in ten tio n . They are ta n ta m o u n t to vitality
forms, or at least contain them.
The dynamic interplay of intention and word has similarities
to choreographing dance or composing music, where the inter
play is between the inchoate intentions of the creator and move
ments or notes (Kurth, 1931).
Experienced therapists are peripherally aware of m any of the
above dynamic features of their patient’s speech that influence
th eir overall clinical im pressions. However, because of the

emphasis on w ord m eaning in talking therapies, the dynamic
vitality-related features of speech are less often the central focus
of attention.
The above considerations lead us to pay a special kind o f
atten tio n to the vitality form s in spontaneous speech in the
clinical setting. They can reveal what is hidden in the words or
behind them , such as the degree of authenticity, hesitation,
conflict, difficulty and fear in telling, the am ount of excitation
or engagem ent, the distance o f the narrative stance from the
“here and now,” boredom , deadness, disavowal, the am ount of
defensive blockage in the passage from m ind to speech, and
m uch more. This kind of sensitivity requires sensibilization to
vitality forms to disembed them from the rest of the verbal flow
and the emotions elicited.
In this context, “meaning” takes on a different sense. Language
and symbolization are no longer the only, or even necessarily
m ajor, creators of meaning. The dictionary definition o f “m ean
ing” is illustrative on this point. “M eaning” is defined as “what
is in m ind,” “what is intended,” and “what is shown forth.” The
linguistic sense of meaning is either n ot m entioned or is given a
second place in dictionary definitions (Oxford English Dictionary,
p. 1053; Webster’s New Twentieth Century Dictionary, p. 1115).
In short, the “intention unfolding/emerging process” shaped
by vitality forms is a rich source of clinical material that is fre
quently not fully used.
Dynamic form s of vitality as paths to memory

The traces of vitality forms that were experienced in the past are
carried in memory. They are connected with the other aspects
o f rem em bered experience. W hen the vitality form s o f the
experience can be evoked, a whole experience can tum ble out.
The fading of a church bell can evoke a tim e w hen someone

slowly left the room or disappeared from the relationship, etc.
How can a therapeutic inquiry be directed to use the vitality
forms? An obvious key is to stay with direct experience at the local
level, not abstractions about experience, and m oreover to stay
with dynamic events such as movements (mental and physical)
th a t unfold in tim e, n o t m ental states conceived of as static
entities. N or should one stay with body parts or positions to find
the experiences they “contain,” as some body therapies do, but
rather evoke experiences of the movement of forces in time, space,
and intentionality to recall different vitality forms. The overall
idea is for therapists to pour themselves (empathically) as far as is
possible and clinically useful into the lived-movement-evoked
experience of the patient and begin the dialogue there. The g o a l,
is to evoke a vitality form that will pull into consciousness some
aspect of the whole lived experience. Here is an example.
A n adolescent b o y had a sudden an d dram atic “break.” H e retreated
into a m ute silence with n o show o f em otion. It had lasted several days.
T he prov isio n al in fo rm al diagnosis was a “schizophrenic episode.”
All th at is know n is th at o n the night preceding the “break” he had been
in the back seat o f a friend’s car w ith a girl, w hom he liked, sitting on
his lap. M any questions were posed to clarify w hat happened and break
thro u g h his silence: Was she im p o rtan t to him? D id she like him? D id
she reject any advances? W as he h u rt, sad, angry, or hum iliated? Was
there a previous history? A nd so on. N one o f these opened his silence. It
is w orth noting th a t all o f these questions ask about som ething (usually
static) th a t m ight have happened. They are hypotheses about his pos
sible m ental state. However, the only things we do know are th a t he was
in the back seat o f a car w ith a girl on his lap. From this physical reality,
this local level, the following question arose, “As she sat on your lap and
shifted her weight, w hat did her m oving weight feel like on your legs?”
After a short while, the boy looked up and tears slowly started to fill his
eyes. The door to therapy was opened a crack.
Here is another example.

A m an was very u n certain a b o u t h o w he felt tow ards his wife. D id
he w an t to stay in th e relationship o r leave? The m arriage h a d been
difficult an d m o re dead th a n alive for a lo n g tim e. A fter an absence

o f several weeks, his wife flew hom e. H e m e t h er at th e a irp o rt. The
th erap ist asked how he felt ab o u t her. H e said he still did n o t know.
Instead, the therapist m ight have asked, “W hen you first saw her emerge
from the gate and come tow ard you, did anything ju m p up or fall down
inside you?”
The difference between these two questions is not small. The

first is about static m ental states and the second is about vitality
forms.
M ost experienced therapists do this sort o f thing w ithout
thinking m uch about it. I am n o t pretending to invent them.
I am trying to identify, conceptualize, and give a name to such
experiences, to better understand and use them.
M em ories evoked via the path of dynamic experience m ay
be unconscious in the sense of being under repression or dis
so c ia ted , o r m ay resid e in im p lic it re la tio n a l k n o w in g .
Therapeutically, vitality form s can be used along w ith other
approaches, or alone initially, or after other m ore explicit
approaches fail, or to complement the other approaches, or to
jum p-start them.
Vitality dynam ics as a path to "(re)-constructed"

phenom enal experience
We usually do not bother to make a distinction between m em
ory and phenom enological experience. M em ory is restricted
here to rem em brances th a t are selected and assem bled to
address a specific “present remembering context,” i.e. to adapt
to a novel present m oment. One “remembers the present,” i.e.
one uses the past as a guide to adapt to the immediate present
situation (Edelman, 1990).
Phenomenological experience, on the contrary, is happening
now (mem ory is the recall after it is over and p u t into a coher
ent form). It is whatever is crossing the conscious “m ental stage”
right now (including its immediate past echo, which has not yet
faded into the past). It is purely subjective. It does n ot m atter

why or how it got on to the m ental stage, nor whether it refers
to real events, past events, or future events, or even if it never
happened before. It has phenomenological “reality.” It is in the
nature o f direct phenomenological experience that it cannot be
verbally recounted as it is happening (attempts to do this would
disrupt the happening), so w hen the happening is recounted
later it is only a selected m em ory o f w hat was experienced
phenomenologically.
It would be most interesting clinically if we could get at pure
undistorted phenom enological experience (a completely free
“free association” in its p u rist form comes close). P henom
enological experience is n ot retrospectively selected to meet the
unicity of the present rem em bering context, and selection is
less based on defensive operations. It is lived experience. If we
could get a hold on it, it might offer different paths to different
clinical material.
There are techniques that can approximate direct lived expe
rience but never capture it fully or faithfully. Simple introspec
tion as to what happened subjectively has proven problematic.
W e have devised a m ore com plicated way to piece together
retrospectively the phenomenological experience in a multilay
ered fashion. The technique is called the “microanalytic inter
view ,” w hich can also be used clinically. (T his has been
m entioned in Chapter 5. A detailed description of the “micro-
analytic interview” can be fojudl in the appendix of Stern, 2004,
pp. 229-240.)
The technique grew out of a project to explore the “present
m om ent” as a phenom enal experience. I ask subjects to tell me
w hat they experienced several hours earlier th at m orning at
breakfast (it was originally called the “breakfast interview ”).
Usually they answer, “N ot m uch.” After a while we agree on a
brief stretch of tim e where they know exactly when it started
(e.g. “The kettle began to sing”) and when it ended (e.g. “Then
I sat down and picked up my cup”). Once these boundary markers
are in place we explore their subjective experience of “all” that
crossed their conscious mental stage during the 20 or 30 seconds
betw een these two boundaries (things they w ould n o t have
remembered ordinarily, i.e. never needed to remember).
They are asked, in no particular order, what they felt, thought,
and sensed, what positions their bodies were in and when did they
change position, what gestures and when, what head positions,
did any memories pop up, did they have visual images, and did
they project themselves into the immediate future. If they were
the director of a movie about their subjective experience during
those 20-30 seconds, and I was the cam eram an, w hat angle
should I shoot the scene from? W ould I use close-ups or long
shots for different moments? How would I cut from one shot to
another? And so on. In effect, any question could be asked that
m ight throw them into reliving the event. The technique does
not prioritize w hether questions target movements or m ental
states.
The response to each question is graphed in the type o f a vital
ity form (the intensity o f force, its duration, and contour as
subjectively felt). Each response is graphed as a separate time
line, one below the next (feelings, thoughts, movements, etc.).
Accordingly, the final record resembles a symphonic score with
each instrum ent (response to a question) having its own line.
W hen the next question is asked it often leads to a change of
the previous responses, which then have to be regraphed. All
together, a layered composite narrative results. This account is
different from a simple reconstruction in that the interviewer
uses verbal and nonverbal prim ers to evoke the experience in
multiple ways. A m inutely re-worked narrative is created that is
different from a m emory. It is m ore comprehensive and con
tinuous but usually less coherent than a memory.
W hen w orking at this level o f m icroanalysis, the role o f

dynamic forms o f experience comes to the fore. Personal psy
chological themes are revealed in unsuspected details that would
not have popped up using other techniques.
For instance:
A graduate stu d en t described going to the refrigerator to get orange
juice for breakfast. He opened the refrigerator door. H e then, w ithout
thinking, while he was talking, m ade the same gesture he used to open
the refrigerator door. This struck m e as strange. Everyone knows how
to open a refrigerator door. I asked h im if there was som ething u n u
sual ab o u t opening the door. He focused on his gesture and repeated
it, explaining th a t the door was broken and if he pulled it too strongly
it would swing wide open and bang into the cabinet. If he pulled it too
weakly it w ould swing back to close and he could n o t get his juice out.
But if he pulled it open with just the right strength it w ould stay open -
ju st so. H e said it was a so rt o f gam e w ith him self to see if he could 1
fashion the right m ovem ent, i.e. give it the right vitality dynamic. N ot
too strong, no t too weak, n o t too fast, n o t too slow.
He th e n to o k th e juice o u t o f the fridge and p o u red it in to a glass on

the table. H e tried to fill th e glass alm ost to the brim , so it was n o t so
full th a t it w ould spill w hen brin g in g it to his lips, b u t h ad as m uch
juice in it as possible. T h at to o was a sort o f game. W hile recounting
this, he realized w ith surprise th a t th e juice an d the refrigerator door
were b o th a k in d o f risk taking, o f seeing how far he could p u sh the
envelope. H e th e n recalled th a t th e n ig h t before he h a d been trying
to finish w riting the conclusion o f the research th a t was his doctoral
thesis. The w riting involved deciding how far he could go in the scope
o f his conclusions. At w hat p o in t w ould it be overreaching o r too timid?
Along w ith the experience o f the night before w ith his thesis, we agreed
th a t in general he was a risk taker in life, from big things to refrigerator
doors and juice pouring.
The extensiveness of this trait would not have been apparent to

him from m ost m em ories. It popped easily out of a (re) con
struction o f an ordinary phenom enal experience revealing a
current psychological conflict as well as a character-like trait.
In addition, the subject him self put it all together. It is in this
sense that a microanalytic approach to phenomenal experience
can open up a somewhat unique clinical landscape th at might

have had to be m ore laboriously constructed over tim e by other
paths.
W hen used clinically, this interview can be greatly abbreviat
ed to fit the situation and therapeutic relationship.
Vitality form s and imagined movement, including

verbal descriptions
E xperiences th a t are d escribed verbally, o r im agined, o r
witnessed in others, or enacted by oneself, seem to be in ter
connected by the brain. No m atter how the experience was gen
erated or received, it ends up in all of these dom ains to some
extent.
An example illustrates this. If someone is standing, ask them
(a verbalization) to imagine taking a step forward, b u t not to
take it (an imagined movement). You cannot notice any move
m ent in their stance. However, if you give them a little push
forward from behind they will fall forward and take a little step
to break the forward movement. On the other hand, if you give
them the same directions and the same little push, b u t back
ward from the front, their body resists it, and they will not move
(Paxton, 2008). Real m ovements (imperceptible to the eye) in
the form of shifts of tonicity are also involved.
W hen someone imagines a m ovem ent with its vitality form,
something happens in the cortex that then sends a signal to the
appropriate m otor areas to activate the musculature of the body
that would have been used if the imagined event were enacted.
However, although some activation is recorded electrophysio-
logically in the muscles involved, it is n ot enough to release a
movement.
Perhaps the final com m on pathway for understanding words,
imagining actions, intending to act, or imitative, identificatory,
or e m p ath ic actions is by way o f “im agined m o v e m e n t.”
M ovement remains prim ary for animals, b u t during evolution

it m ay be th a t im agined m ovem ent has becom e prim ary in
hum ans. It is the pivot through which all action and thought
pass.
Recall that when a w ord is heard the signal goes not only to
the language centers of the brain but also to the part of the brain
th a t w ould be involved in an en actm en t o f th e w ord. For
instance, when the words “skip,” “jum p,” or “ru n ” are heard,
the signal will also go to those different parts of the m otor cor
tex th at control the slightly different m otor patterns of skip
ping, jum ping, or running. An imagined m ovem ent is created
alongside the word meaning.
This perspective on imagined m ovem ent helps explain why
“narrative therapies” have developed (e.g. Freedman & Combs,
1996). Storytelling is used to provide virtual experience about
the self. It brings about change both through its virtual enact
m ent of narrated actions (Gentili, Papaxanthis, & Pozzo, 2005;
Fontani et al., 2007) and through its narrative coherence as the
personal autobiography of how you got to be w ho you are
(Spence, 1976; Schafer, 1981).
In this light, it is clear that imagined movements are used in
b o th m ovem ent/body therapies and talking therapies. This
includes techniques such as “visualized m ovem ents,” “m ental
movem ents,” preparations for movement, virtual movements,
and “phantasied movements.” Music and dance therapy, move
m ent therapies, and some sports therapy depend on these con
nections through imagined m ovement. Changing a golf swing
or tennis stroke can occur by doing it, or by im agining your
swing differently, or by seeing another do it.
The imagined m ovem ent is not disincarnated - it has the flesh
of a virtually embodied vitality form.
There is a growing n o tio n th at therapeutic change cannot
happen if there is n ot a “real” or imagined action at the local
W HAT IMPLICATIONS DO FORMS OF VITALITY HAVE? | 1
level. For instance, the BCPSG in studying the change process

in a therapeutic session proposed that changes in “implicit rela
tional know ing” occur only w hen one “does,” i.e. enacts an
aspect of the relationship in a new way. It need n ot be reflected
upon and verbalized (Stern etal., 1998; BCPSG, 2002, 2005a,b;
2008). Gestalt therapy has been using such im agining tech
niques for a long time, as have others.
In short, m ental models and neural networks can be reshaped
by doing something differently, imagining it differently, seeing
another doing it, or by hearing about it in words. The walls
separating different m odes o f experiencing are sta rtin g to
come down as we realize that all has to pass by way of imagined
movement.
The b ra in ’s n eu ral netw orks fu n ctio n so th a t successive
inscriptions o f experience (cognitive, em otional, sensory, or
m otor) can alter and re-transcribe previous traces. The neural
networks are in almost constant change depending on experi
ence. Existing neural synapses can cease to function if n o t used,
or get stronger if frequently used; new ones can form, n o t only
in the developing person, but also throughout life. The brain’s
plasticity and dependence on accum ulating experience have
long since been assumed (Givon, 2005), and have been the sub
ject o f m uch diverse neuroscientific and behavioral research
(e.g. Freeman&Schneider, 1982; Ghaem, etal, 1997;McCandliss,
Posner, & Givon, 1997; Freem an, 1999; Jones & Greenough,
2002; Collingridge, Isaac, & Wang, 2004; Lamprecht & LeDoux,
2004; Gage, Kempermann, & Song, 2008).
A nserm et & M agistretti (2004) have related brain plasticity
changes and psychoanalytic changes as viewed in parallel.
Vitality form s and the "local level"

The “local level” is a concept that underlies m uch of this book.
Vitality forms are realized at a “local level.” “At this level, the
FORMS OF VITALITY
scale of analysis becomes m ore microscopic - gestures, expres

sions, spoken phrases, or the emergence o f a thought usually
last between 1 and 10 seconds, enough time to execute a grasp
of consciousness of a single whole event, a Gestalt. The units of
m eaning at this level are m ade up of movements/actions (verbal
or non-verbal) th at im ply an existing or emerging intention.
The actions acquire their inevitable vitality under the influence
of the local conditions of specific time and place, and the inter
nal motivational force (BCPSG, 2002, 2005a; Stern, 2004).
There is a general tendency to see local-level happenings as
less clinically im portant than the motives “behind” them , the
larger psychodynamic forces. In this view, local-level events are
seen as only behavioral, non-verbal, unreflected, unelaborated,
non-abstract, and n o t generalized, com pared w ith a verbal
interpretation as the best clinical example of being elaborated,
verbal, reflected, and generalized. Countering this view is the
evidence showing that im plicit relational knowings and other
body/m ental m odels (e.g. prim ary m etaphors) are, indeed,
concepts and abstractions, although n o t arrived at th rough
conscious reflection and verbalized.
Traditional psychoanalysis and related approaches see local-
level meaning as “superficial” compared with the “deep” m ean
ings pro v id ed by m ore m acro-psychodynam ic (narrative)
meanings. The approach taken here sees the micro-level as just
as deep in m eaning, and the macro-level as just as superficial
because it is built upon the reality of the micro-local level and
in that sense is secondary and derived (BCPSG, 2008). W e view
the local level as containing the events that verbal abstractions
are drawn from , and as providing the terrain upon which the
abstractions and generalization are then instantiated and given
expressive form.
The dialogue flows from m ovem ent at th e local level to
m ental operations at the abstracted level, then back down to
WHAT IMPLICATIONS DO FORMS OF VITALITY HAVE? | 137
instantiation in m ovem ent at the local level. Concerning “super

ficial” and “deep” there is no upside dow n or right side up.
Dialogical circles between them continue to turn. Each is neces
sary for the evolution of the other, and offers different ports of
entry into the m ind.
Vitality form s and intersubjectivity

W here you start from determ ines in large part where you go
and what you find on the way. We shall start from a set o f phil
osophical ideas and scientific findings that include:
♦ the philosophical notion that the hum an m ind is “innately
open to other m inds” and to seeing “others as having
embodied m inds like m e” and “with m e”
♦ the developmental history of intersubjective capacities from
early infancy (early imitation, interactional synchrony,
pointing to align the other’s attention, social referencing,
affect attunem ent, etc.)
♦ the “m irror neuron” story that starts to explain how we
become immersed in the experience of others
♦ the findings of “intention detection centers” that start to
clarify how we m ind-read the intentions of others
♦ the tendency for self-reflection (Fonagy & Target, 1997)
♦ the notion that an infant does not pass through a longish
phase o f not differentiating self from other, or a phase
of norm al symbiosis, but rather that the m ain early
developmental tasks are to become socio-affectively
com petent and establish attachm ent ties, rather than to
first become autonom ous and independent.
Thus the focus has to be on inter-psychic events. The em er
gence of the intra-psychic dom ain can only be observed in the
larger context of the inter-psychic. This is true in general as well
as developmentally. Accordingly, the inter-psychic happenings
between the patient and therapist cannot be seen only in terms

of transference and counter-transference, b u t rather under the
larger roof o f intersubjective relatedness, which includes what
happens in a therapeutic session, b u t as a special subset o f
general inter subjectivity.
In therapy, the spontaneous speech (or vocalizations) of the
therapist is rich in vitality dynamics. A therapist can hardly
open his or her m outh without using a vitality form and doing
a sort o f affect attunem ent with what the patient just said or
what they m ight say next. This results in the fine-tuning of their
intersubjective field. Suppose th a t therapists lim ited th eir
responses to only “H m m m ,” “U h huh,” or “Aahhaaa.” Each is
quite different. “H m m m ” usually has a fall in pitch at the end.
This kind of term inal pitch fall usually evokes a vitality dynam
ic th a t signals a closing out, or a term in atio n - “I got it, go
ahead, you can move on.” It can have a slightly negative valence.
“Aahhaaa” usually has a term inal pitch rise w ith an im plied
question mark. Its vitality form signals an interest in what was
said and in w hat m ay follow. It usually carries an im plicit
encouragement and curiosity. “Uh h u h ” is m ore neutral. It is a
placeholder signaling “I’m still here and listening.”
Now add to these three utterances the multiple variations in
duration, force, and tem poral contour of the utterance, and one
ends up w ith a huge repertoire of nuanced vitality forms that
indicate exactly how the therapist felt about what was just said.
An intersubjective exchange is taking place w ith only three
sounds. Furtherm ore, this attunem ent (under- or overattune-
m ent) acts as a sort of non-conscious compass to guide the
course of the session and therapy. These vitality forms from the
therapist act like the affect attunem ents (vitality form m atch
ing) we have seen m others perform for their infants. However,
here w hat is being sculpted is the nature o f the relatedness
between patient and therapist - the therapy itself.
The role of vitality forms in intersubjectivity leads to a renewed

interest in some of the basic notions of non-verbal therapies.
“Im provisation m usic therapy” provides an example. Tony
W igram (2004) describes w hat he calls the “basic therapeutic
m ethods” of im provisation music therapy. These include the
following.
1. Mirroring, imitating, and copying. The therapist does exactly
what the patient just did - its vitality form, rhythm, melody,
etc. - on the piano or drum s or some other instrum ent.
2. M atching. This is a p a rtial and selective im itatio n . The
dynam ic features o f w hat the patient did are m aintained,
b ut other features are altered. This is essentially a musically
based affect attunem ent. It is “one of the m ost valuable
im provisational m ethods th at can be applied in therapy”
(p. 83). Just as affect attunem ent (vitality form m atching)
has been shown to be so valuable in parent-infant therapies
(M arkova & Legerstee, 2006), so it is in all non -v erb al
therapies.
3. Empathic improvisation. The therapist improvises a response
th at reflects (w ithout im itation or attunem ent) the em o
tional state o f the patient, his “way of being” at that m oment.
It is a musical rendition o f the patient’s state. This relies on
some m eta-m odal matching of vitality forms.
4. Grounding, holding, and containing. The therapist creates a
stable musical “anchor” (e.g. steady pulsed beats on a bass
d rum ). This provides a dynamic framework that the im prov
isation can work within.
5. Dialoguing. T urn taking is a m ajor m anner o f dialoguing.
Sm ooth turn taking involves sharing a convention about the
tim e flow o f that interaction. In adult verbal conversation,
dyadic speaker turn-taking pauses (when one ends and the
other has not yet started to talk) m ust be mutually adjusted
to the tim ing o f the other. Otherwise there are either con
stant interruptions or too long silences (Jaffe & Feldstein,
1970). This very fine timing is not based on verbal content.
Even infants during the first half year of life learn to do it
w ith th eir parents (Stern, 1971, 1977; Stern et al., 1975;
Beebe, 1982; Jaffe et a l, 2001). In other words, it involves a
form of intersubjectivity.
6. Accompanying. The therapist provides an accom panim ent
th a t is different from w hat the patient is playing b u t lies
“dynam ically u n d erneath the p atien t’s m usic” (W igram,
2004, p. 106).
In short, the basic m ethods in im provisation m usic therapy
all require the use of vitality form s to share or interchange
experience.
From a related point of view, some music therapists stress the
intersubjective aspects of the therapy. For instance, Trolldalen
(1997) am ong others sees m usical interplay as offering the
p otential for intersubjective m eetings. As the therapist and
patient enter the same dynamic flow created by the music, there
will emerge m om ents of “m utual recognition” when they both
realize, at the same time, that they are sharing a com m on expe
rience. This is brought about through affect attunem ent, joint
attention, and m utual confirm ation. Such shared m om ents
then act m uch as do “m om ents of m eeting” in changing the
relationship and moving it to a deeper level of intersubjectivity
(BCPSG, 2008).
Im m ersion in the dynamic flow is the central condition that
creates these events. Accordingly, this view of m usic therapy
also rests on vitality forms with some cognitive aspects added,
especially the im portance of m utual recognition.
O f course, once the dynamic musical work has occurred and
aspects of the patient’s “way of being with the other and in the
WHAT IMPLICATIONS DO FORMS OF VITALITY HAVE? |
w orld” have been musically manifested, the therapist can, but

need not, verbalize and render what is heard into a meaningful
narrative structure, depending on the school of approach. This
rejoins the dialogue between explicit and implicit techniques,
between talking and acting.
The situation in other m ovem ent therapies is roughly parallel
to what has been described for improvisation music therapy, in
particular the central role of vitality forms in establishing con
tact with the patient and working with them. M ovement thera
pies th at rely on vitality form s include dance therapy, body
therapy, Feldenkrais, Alexander technique, and others. This list
should also include role-playing techniques. It is beyond the
scope o f this book to overview all o f these. The exam ple of
music therapy will suffice.
The central point is that forms of vitality play an essential role
in the expansion and adjustm ent of the intersubjective field
betw een p atien t and therapist, regardless of w hether one is
using a talking or non-verbal therapeutic approach.
Vitality form s in identification

Identification and internalization rem ain incompletely under
stood. Can exploring the dynam ics of vitality form s lead to
better understanding? W hat is it about another that we identify
with? Is it what they do, or why they do it, or how they do it? It
is all three. Nevertheless, how it is done is often the m ost mys
terious and least explained. W e now know a good deal about
the “W hat?,” thanks in part to the m irror neuron story. In addi
tion, we know that the brain has centers that detect likely inten
tions (Ruby & Decety, 2001). This helps us to understand the
“Why?” (O f course, m uch m ore is needed, such as a tendency to
seek out, perceive, and think about others’ actions in terms of
intentions and motives.)
We return to the “How?” It is always remarkable to see/feel

yourself walking and m oving like your father or m other, or
making the same facial expression while tilting your head a cer
tain way, or sighing audibly in a way that they do or did. That
sigh is not any sigh. W hat m ost makes it particular is its dynam
ic features - the force and duration of expiring the air, the ten
sion of the vocal chords and the opening of the m outh, the
attack, the fade-out, etc. (Recall that m irror neurons apply to
unseen vocal chord m ovements as well as to visible gestures.)
Every sigh has a beginning, middle, and end with a stress some
where along the timeline. To “take in” another’s sigh one has to
have been inside their skin. Identification and internalization
are in th is sense m ore com plete im m ersions in a n o th e r’s
dynam ic experience th an em pathy needs to be. W ithout the
vitality forms, identification and internalization would be like
rules of action, not a felt immersion.
These m ental processes occurring out of awareness are seen
in young children. We often think o f identification and inter
nalization as m ore inexplicable and quite separate from learn
ing in general. However, we learn to talk by hearing others talk.
W e learn to sigh by hearing/seeing certain others sigh. The
mechanisms are different, but the end product of learning how
to function in a certain way is similar.
In an average nuclear family, the infant is surrounded con
stantly by the same few people. In the first few years of life the
opportunity for a generalized learning (beyond the family) of
what, why, and how people do w hat they do does n o t occur.
They have to learn how to be someone else, as they learn to be
themselves. They learn a repertoire o f vitality forms that they
can choose from.
We see m any acts perform ed by others every day. W e attribute
m otives to them . We observe the m anner in w hich they are
accom plished. W e grasp the context. But why do we care?
W HAT IMPLICATIONS DO FORMS OF VITALITY HAVE? 143
H ow is the what, why, and how of any particular act lit up and
selected as w orth “taking in,” to internalize, or identify with, or
empathize with? If this question cannot be answered, all the rest
would lose m uch o f its clinical value.
The act o f an o th e r to be id entified w ith m u st belong to
th at other specifically. It m ust carry their personal signature.
It cannot be any m em ber o f a class of acts. The vitality of the
forms of the actions of the other m ust be specific to them. It is
what gives it its uniqueness.
Even m ore serious, w ithout a selection process we w ould be
constantly captured and inundated by the behavior of others in
our presence. O ur m irror neuron system would be the prisoner
of other people’s m otor neuron systems. Some gating and brak
ing mechanisms m ust operate.
The selection of a specific other to identify with is prim ordial.
That person m ust have a special relationship with us. We can
n o t get away from this notion. There m ust be a way that the
behavior of the other has more value because of who they are to
us, in reality or imagination. We m ust love, hate, respect, fear,
admire, be attached to, or be dependent on them , (i.e. be in an
im portant relationship with them ). Their presence, then, has a
special value (conscious or unconscious). This value is built up
over previous experiences w ith the other, or the other’s proto
type. These accumulated experiences link the other to m otiva
tional and em otional centers. They are “charged” by virtue of
this linkage. They becom e “charged others.” Their presence
alone will cause some activation o f the arousal, m otivational,
and emotional centers associated with them.
To capture this, Freud (1895) first used the term cathexis
(besetsung). He m eant the am ount of psychic energy attached to
an object (idea, etc.). Psychoanalysis has in part kept this con
cept based on the “economics” of psychic energy as a physical
reality. Over time, the psychic energy notion has become less of
a reality and m ore of a m etaphor for value, or the affective value,

or the am ount of excitation elicited by an object (Laplanche &
Pontalis, 1967). I shall continue to use the term “value” as it is
accepted across m any related fields. Arousal and em otion meas
ure its value to us.
So far, we have an individual who will be identified with or
internalized. They have been pre-chosen by past experience.
But how do they becom e internalized? They d o n ’t - n o t as
whole objects and not as “part objects” (e.g. breasts). It is their
forms of vitality as these relate to specific actions, feelings, atti
tudes, reactions, and how they respond to us and make us feel
that are internalized and identified with. W hat we take in has
been experienced at an intim ate and local level. It is the inter
active experience that is internalized, not “objects.”
Suppose that a “charged other” executes a dismissive toss of
the head to som eone else, or makes an attem pt at seduction,
which is readily seen and heard in the voice, or that the other is
involved w ith their whole body in an act of holding a baby a
certain way. These actions with their vitality forms are the ongo
ing perceptions of the charged other that the observer-identifier
is concerned with.
H ow do we internalize the local-level actions of a highlighted
other? The w ork of LeDoux (1996) offers some suggestions.
Recall th at the arousal systems will enhance the activation of
ongoing perceptions. Perceptive processes th a t are n o t so
engaged will not be activated (see Chapter 4). How can we build
on this basic idea?
It is reasonable to assum e th a t the sim ple presence and
actions of people who are loved, hated, feared, or attached to
will elicit activity in the arousal and m otivational centers that
regulate these states. Suppose further that a “charged other” is
now executing an action (the dismissive toss of the head, etc.).
WHAT IMPLICATIONS DO FORMS OF VITALITY HAVE? US
Such actions are the “ongoing perceptions” o f the “charged

other” that the observer-identifier is concerned with.
In such a situation, the arousal systems will be doubly trig
gered - first, by the presence of a “charged other,” i.e. by the
activation o f the m otivational centers, and secondly, by the
“ongoing perception” o f a specific act w ith a specific vitality
form . The arousal systems will then re-ascend to the cortex to
augm ent the activation o f the “ongoing p ercep tio n ” th at is
already under way (like the dismissive toss o f the head). This
a ction, as perceived, is th u s selectively m ore activated. It
becom es a lit-up action that focalizes attention and interest.
The m irror neuron system is also called into play and directed
to the lit-u p action o f a lit-u p person, and creates a virtual
enactm ent o f the other’s action, an imagined movement. This
imagined m ovem ent m ust follow the exact dynamic form of the
original. The virtual enactm ent can then rearrange the neural
circuitry o f how such an action should be perform ed by the
identifier in a certain context. The person who has identified
ends up with a modified gesture for the action in question, and
w ith the feel o f w hat it is like to perform an action as if they
were its original performer. A building block for a larger inter
nalization has been p u t in place.
W hat we call em pathy englobes all these processes - object
choice, sympathy, em pathy, and enactm ent. Rather than see
these processes in sequence, they enter an ongoing dialogue and
shape one another.
The above teasing apart of empathy may be helpful in evalu
ating our therapeutic responses or failures, in particular those
involving the nature of our “countertransference,” i.e. those
occasions w hen em pathic processes are overfacilitated, over
inhibited, or disinhibited, and those m om ents w hen object
choice and empathic action are taken.
W e are perhaps taking a step tow ard understanding better

“taking in ,” i.e. the general process b eh in d identification,
empathy, and internalization. In any event, these processes have
enormous importance for clinical theory and practice, and fur
ther research is needed.
Vitality form s, authenticity, and aliveness

A uthenticity is cardinal in both patient and therapist. Being
authentic is not an all-or-nothing state - there are degrees of
authenticity that can shift (just think of politeness). It is hard to
imagine how the nuances of authenticity are transm itted with
o u t relying heavily on v itality form s. Ekm an, Friesen, &
O’Sullivan (1988) have shown that authentic facial displays (tell
ing the truth) versus inauthentic facial expressions (lying) can be
distinguished based on their vitality dynamics (see Chapter 3).
In natural situations, including therapy sessions, what goes into
authenticity is far m ore complex, involving gestures, physical
positions, muscular tonicity, voice, and language. The possibili
ties for expressing level and shift in authenticity are many.
The notion of level o f authenticity needs further discussion.
An example involving an infant is useful here.
♦ A m other and her 9-m onth-old son were sitting side by side
on the floor playing with a cardboard jigsaw puzzle.
♦ The boy picked up a piece of the puzzle and brought it to
his m outh.
♦ His m other said in a norm al voice, “No, it’s not to eat, it’s a
leaf’ (of the puzzle). She stopped his m ovement with her
hand.
♦ The boy answered “Ugh.” Then he tried again to get the
piece to his m outh.
♦ She repeated, in a firmer voice this time, “No!”
♦ His response was “Uugghh!”
♦ She escalated even higher and said, “NO, IT’S NOT TO

EAT!!!”
♦ He escalated even further, “UUGGHH!!”
♦ She then leaned forward towards him, lowered her eye
brows, and said in a flat voice with no melody and m uch
vocal tension (as in anger), “DO N’T YOU YELL AT YOUR
MOTHER. I SAID NO!”
♦ He then overescalated her, yet again, and said,
“UUUGGGHHH!!!!”
♦ At this point she gave up and conceded the victory to him.
She sat back, her face softened and broke into a slightly
seductive smile. She said, with a melodic voice, “Does that
taste good?”
♦ He then p u t the puzzle piece in his m outh.
♦ She then made him pay for his victory. W ith a disgusted
wrinkling of her nose and a slightly contem ptuous voice she
said, “It’s only cardboard, does that taste good?”
The m other’s family of origin was quite “macho.” H er m other
and father were constantly in negotiations where her m other
said “N o” and her father said “Yes” to whatever was the source
o f contention. This w ent on until he progressively raised his
voice and his physical threat level to a point where she would
give in to him. After he got w hat he wanted she made him pay
for it with contem pt and belittlement: “You’re an idiot, you’re
such a baby,” and so on.
She and her older brother repeated the same pattern, and it
recurred in her marriage with her son’s father.
Therefore the whole scene between the m other and her son
was not a simple prohibition against putting things in his m outh,
as it first appeared. R ather it was a lesson for him in how to
negotiate with a woman. The whole negotiation turned around
the point when she stopped escalating, and let him overescalate
| FORMS OF VITALITY
her, as if giving up the battle to him. W hen are the “sincerity

conditions” such that adequate authenticity has been reached?
The whole thing is about m easuring, judging, and enact
ing authenticity. T hat was the im p o rta n t cultural message.
The prohibition against m outhing things was just the conven
ient vehicle. In addition, the negotiation was conducted mostly
with changes in vitality forms.
Recall th a t the in fan t was only 9 m onths old and he was
already learning non-verbally about the negotiation of the
authenticity of desire. He will spend the rest of his life expand
ing his knowledge of how to do this. In addition, it will come
into play in the consulting room. It could never be done w ith
out vitality forms as a medium.
Here is a quite different example of our ignorance about iden
tification and em pathy and the role o f vitality form s in their
operation. It concerns transference and countertransference.
Heller & Haynal (1997) studied the videotapes of therapy ses
sions with patients who were high risk for a repeated attem pt at
suicide. The therapists could n o t pred ict w ho w ould make
another attem pt. Consciously they did n o t know. Heller and
Haynal, and a panel of judges, carefully exam ined the facial
expressions of the at-risk patients. Using Ekman and Friesen’s
Facial Action Coding System, they could not predict who would
again attem pt suicide. However, when they studied the facial
expressions of the treating therapists, they could make a signifi
cant prediction of which patients would attem pt suicide!
Something in the patients’ behavior m ust have evoked forms
of vitality in the therapists that let them know (unconsciously)
that certain patients had a different level o f authenticity o f their
belief in “going on being.” It was as if a shadow fell on their
vitality. Perhaps I am taking a step too far. However, the over
reach attests to the clinical possibilities that invite exploration
when vitality forms are brought to the fore.
It is crucial to remember that the m ost transform ing and cur

ative element in psychotherapy is the experience of the thera
peutic relationship, not the theoretical approach or the technical
m aneuvers. M ost evidence leads to th at conclusion (BCPSG,
2009). I have tried to show that the flesh of the therapeutic rela
tionship is form ed in part from the interplay o f vitality forms.
These are essential to psychotherapy w hether we recognize it
or not.
In speaking about the process of supervising young therapists
in training, it is often observed that everything that the trainee
does n o t tell th eir supervisor is w hat really w ent on in the
session.
Overall summary
This book calls attention to the dom ain of dynamic forms of
vitality. It dem onstrates that such a dom ain exists, and shows
th at it is separate and distinct from the dom ains o f em otion,
sensation, and cognition. It stands on its own.
The second task has been to describe the scope of the dom ain
o f dynam ic form s o f vitality in psychology, the arts, psycho
therapy, developm ent, and neuroscience. It is ubiquitous as a
part of all experience.
Finally, it intends to influence some of our current notions
and suggest further paths o f inquiry into this dom ain and all
that it touches.
References
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Als, H., Lawhon, G„ Duffy, F., McAnulty, G., Gibes-Grossman, R. 8c
Blickman, J. (1994). Individualized developm ental care for the very low-
birth-w eight preterm infant. M edical and neurofunctional effects. JAMA,
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Index
acceleration 15 artistic collaborations 76, 77-81

accom panying 140 ballet 79
acetylcholine 62 cinem a 79
activated m otivational systems 57 poetry 78
activity 35 ascending arousal pathways 60, 62
affect 42 association areas 49
attunem ent 4 1 ,4 2 ,4 3 , 113-15 attention 9
sharing 115,116 authenticity 146-9
Albers, Josef 80 autistic shapes 46
alertness 61 awareness 142
Alexander Nevsky 79
Alexander technique 53, 141 babies
aliveness 8, 35, 104, 146-9 early social life 106-9
alternating narrative syntagm 95 see also infants
amygdala 64, 65 background feelings 44, 45
m aturation o f 109 ballet 79 ,8 4 -5
anger 23 Ballets Russes 79
arousal 9, 37, 58 Ballets Suedois 79
in babies 107-8 basal ganglia 67
definition o f 58 Bauhaus School 79-80
elicitation o f 65 behavior, synchronization o f 51
general 59, 62 being 10
neurobiological Bellour, R aym ond 94
developm ent 109-10 besetsung 143
arousal systems 57-72 binding 15
ascending arousal Birdwhistell, Ray 38
pathways 60, 62 body tone 61
fetus 69 boredom 65
fine-tuning o f signals 63 Boston Change Process
flexibility o f 59 Study G roup 111,124,126
infants 69-70 brainstem 67
neurotransm itters 62-3 gating by 63
regulation o f 67-70 Brazelton’s N eonatal Behavioral
reticular activating system 60 Assessment Scale 105
specificity o f 70-1 breakfast interview 130-1
tim ing 66 brightness 31
art form s
correspondences between 78 Cage, John 80
"total” 7 8 ,7 9 ,8 0 Cartesian theater 49
see also cinema; dance; music; cathexis 143
theater chaos theory 5
170 INDEX
charged others 143, 144 drives 22, 57

choreographic therapy 53 D uncan, Isadora 86
choreography 85-9 dynamics 6-7
cinem a 6, 93-8 fluidity o f 14
collaborations in 79 m eaning o f 7
frames 94 neuronal 29
sequences 94 physical 29
shots 94 vitality 29
vitality form s 94-8 dynamic experience 30-1, 45
close-ups 95 organizational level 30
m ontage and editing 96 dynamic indicators 76
static shots 95 dynamic m ovem ent
Clynes, M anfred 40 signature 13
cognitive appraisal 68, 71 dynamic pentad 4, 6, 22
com a 59 dynamic representation 25
comm unicative musicality 51, 52-3 dynamic stimuli 112
complexity theory 5 dynamic systems theory 5
consciousness 32, 42 dynamic vitality 19-32
containing 139
content Einstein, Albert 6
recording o f 24 elan vital 3
representation 25 em bodied m in d 10, 121
unfolding o f 23-5 em bodim ent 10, 25
contingency 115 em ergent properties 5
cortex 63-4 em otions 9 ,2 7 -8 ,3 1 -2 ,4 2
m aturation o f 109-10 and arousal 65
sensory 64 em otion dynamics 7, 44
countertransference 120,145,148 em otion regulation 44
cross-m odal m erging 35 em pathic im provisation 139
C unningham , Merce 80, 86 em pathy 13,145
energy 22
dance 6, 20, 46, 51, 80-1 Eshkol, N oa 81
ballet 79, 84-5 evolution 19
choreography 85-9 experience 24, 34, 44,135
m odern 87 past 11
vitality forms 84-9 phenom enological 129-33
dance therapy 53, 89
D arwin, Charles 39 Facial Action Coding System 39,148
desires 22 facial movem ents 39-40
developm ental aspects 101-17 lack o f 9-10
fetus 101-5 smiles 40
neonate 106 feelings 43
prem ature infants 105 Feininger, Lyonel 80
dialogue 125 Feldenkrais therapy 53, 89,141
dialoguing 139-40 felt experience 8, 34, 64
directionality 4 felt sense 53-4
dopam ine 62 fetal behavior 101-5
Douglas D unn Dance Co. 81 goal-directed 103
INDEX | 171
lack o f intentionality 103 im provisation m usic therapy 139

m em ory recall 104 individual differences 30-1
m ovem ent 101-2 infants
force 4, 22, 57 color discrim ination 112
felt experience o f 8 early learning 110-11
forms o f feeling 37,81 neurological developm ent of
free association 130 arousal 109-10
Freud, Sigm und 33-4, 119-20 prem ature see prem ature
infants
general arousal 59, 62 sense o f smell 112
Georgi, Yvonne 86 shaping of behavior 115
Gestalt 4, 5,14, 49 initial tendency 124
Gestalt therapy 11,53-4, 135 innateness 37
gestures 9 intensity 26
goal direction 13 intention detection centers 137
goal setting 23 intention emerging
Goodridge, Janet 88-9 process 125
G ordon, D avid 81 intention unfolding 123, 124
G raham , M artha 86 intentionality 4, 21, 22, 104
G rand U nion 80 inter-psychic events 137-8
Gropius, W alter 80 interactional synchrony 51
grounding 139 internalization 13, 141-6
intersubjectivity 43, 137-41
habituation 65 introspection 130
babies 108
Haag, Genevieve 46 James, W illiam 34
happiness 23 Judson Dance Theater 80
hedonic appraisal 68
Heller, M ichael 53 Kandinsky, Vassily 80
histam ine 62 Kendon, A dam 38
H itchcock, Alfred, The Birds kinesics 38
96-8 Klee, Paul 80
holding 139 Kreutzberg, H arald 86
holistic events 24
Hughlings Jackson, John 109 Laban, R udolf 85
H um phrey, D oris 86 Labanotation 85-6
Husserl, E dm ond 34 Lamb, W arren 87-8
Langer, Susanne 37
identification 13, 141-6 language 126
ongoing perception 145 local level 135-7
selection o f subject 143 Lyons-Ruth, Karlen 111
taking in 145-6
im age-gesture process 126 Macaulay, Alastair 77
im agined m ovem ent 133-5 McNeill, David 126
im itation 43, 115 m anner 50
im plication 76 Marks, Lawrence 26
im plicit relational knowing 11, m atching 139
110-11 m eaning 127
172 | INDEX
m em ory 64, 120 negotiation 146-7

present rem em bering 129 N eonatal Behavioral Assessment
vitality form s as paths to 127-9 Scale (NBAS) 106
m ental m ovem ent 21-2 neonates 106
"m ental prim itive” 22 sleep 104-5
M erleau-Ponty, M aurice 34 nervous systems 5
m etam odality 26, 78 neural exploitation 49
m icroanalytic interview 130-2 N eurodevelopm ental Individualized
m irror neurons 13, 47-9, 137, 142 Care and Assessment Program
m irroring 139 (NICAP) 117
Moholy-Nagy, Laszl6 80 n euronal dynamics 29
m om ents o f m eeting 140 neurotransm itters 62-3
m other-in fan t interactions 41-2, Nichols, Kyra 77
52, 106-7 non-verbal therapies 53
affect attunem ent 41, 42, 43, norepinephrine 62
113-15 novelty 65
m otivation centers 57 "now ” 42
motives 22
m otor program s 50 ongoing perception 145
m ovem ent 4, 8-9 ontology 101-17
daughters of 4, 111 over-attunem ent 114
dynamic shaping 51
facial 39-40 past experience 11
lack o f 9-10 Paxton, Steve 80-1, 86, 88
fetal 101-2 contact im provisation 88
im agined 133-5 perception 8
m ental 21-2 ongoing 145
phantasied 134 physionom ic 37
role o f 19-21 theory o f 35
soft assembly 14, 102,125 perform ance 23
visualized 134 peripheral vision 9
m ovem ent therapy 89,141 Pfaff, D onald 58
multisensoriality 15, 36,111-12 phantasied movem ents 134
m ultisensory neurons 36 phenom enological
m usic 6, 20, 46 experience 129-33
dynamic form s 20 phenom enology 33, 34
dynamic indicators 83 physical dynamics 29
vitality forms 82—4 physical tone 45
changes in intensity 82 physionom ic perception 37
flow 83 P ick U p Co. 81
intensity 82 pitch 31
rhythm 83 poetry, collaborations in 78
stress/accents 82-3 polyrhythm icity 15
tem po 83 pow er 22
m usic therapy 89 prem ature infants 105
m utual recognition 140 “kangaroo care” 117
sleep 104—5
narrative 76, 131 present m om ent 129,130
narrative therapies 134 proprioception 8, 9, 104
INDEX
prosody 108 speech 121-7

psychic energy 33, 57 intention unfolding 123,124
psychoanalysis 33-4 ,1 1 9 -2 0 m otivation for 122
psychodynam ics 7 spontaneous 138
psychotherapy 121-49 static m ental states 128, 129
authenticity and aliveness 146-9 static stim uli 112
focusing-oriented 53 stillness 9-10
identification 141-6 symbolist collaborations 78
im agined m ovem ent 133-5 sym pathy 13
intersubjectivity 137-41 synesthesia 35
local level 135-7
m em ory 127-9 taking in 145-6
phenom enological talking 125
experience 129-33 talking therapies 127
speech 121-7 tem poral continuum
m odel 54
qualia 23, 25 thalam us 63-4
theater 6, 89-93
Rainer, Yvonne 80, 86 thought, flow o f 9
Rauschenberg, Robert 80 tim e 4, 26
real tim e 76-7 Tom pkins, Sylvan 37
recognition 5 transference 120,148
recording Trevarthen, Colwyn 51
o f content 24 Trisha Brown Dance Co. 81
dynamic 24 Tustin, Francis 46
reflective-verbal processing 124
representations 25 u n der-attunem ent 114
reticular activating system 60
rhythm 83, 88 value 22, 144
Robbins, Jerome 86 verbalization 133-5
vigilance 9
Scheflen, A1 38 vigor 22
selective inattention 107 visualized movem ents 134
self-reflection 137 vitalism 57
sensations 9, 26-7 vitality
sensori-tonic field 112 definition o f 3
sentics 40 as m ental creation 4
serotonin 62 vitality affects 41
Sheets-Johnstone, Maxine, The vitality dynamics 29, 34, 46
Primacy o f M ovem ent 19-20 vitality forms 10, 47-8, 61
significance processing 54 anatom ical approach 39-40
sleep-wake cycles 116 coding for'in art form s 81-98
smiles, false vs. real 40 developm ent o f 101-17
social interaction 75 dynamic 19-32
soft assembly o f m ovem ents 14, and em otions 27-8
102, 125 exploration o f 10-15
som ething in m ind 123 level o f organization 29-31
sound in m otion 20 m atching o f 41-2
space 4, 26 as paths to m em ory 127-9
174 INDEX
vitality forms (continued) W igram, Tony 139

and sensations 26-7 will 22
and speech 121-7 W ilson, R obert 81, 87, 89
tracking and encoding 48 wishes 22
and unfolding o f content 23-5
voice, characteristics o f 116 Yvonne Rainer Dance Co. 80
W agner, Richard 77-8

W erner, H einz 35

Exploring Dynamic Experience in Psychology, The Arts, Psychotherapy, and Development

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Forms of Vitality

4)7 Great Clarendon Street, Oxford 0X 2 6DP

The inspiration, support and ideas given by my wife,

Part I Introduction and Background 1

3 Id eas fro m P sy c h o lo g y a n d B eh av io ra l Science L e ad in g to

4 A P o ssib le N e u ro sc ie n tific B asis fo r V ita lity F o rm s: th e

Part II The Role of the Arousal Systems, and the

Part III Developmental and Clinical

6 W h e n d o V ita lity F o rm s Begin? A D e v e lo p m e n ta l

R eferen ces 151

Introducing Dynamic "Forms

The idea of this book is to call attention to an aspect o f hum an

and cinema (the examples used in this book), move us by the

dynamic pentad.” This natural Gestalt gives rise to the experi­

w ithout thinking about it. In addition, at the surface, dynamic

the products of culture as we experience them. This seems to be

exploding surging accelerating

Although these words are com m on enough, this list is curi­

Why is this Gestalt called forms of "vitality"?

peripheral vision. W ithout m otion we cannot read in or imag­

Why should we explore forms of vitality

To best grasp the perspective taken in this chapter, the reader

“fade in,” “accelerate and crest,” or enter on the scene with

(Paxton, 2008). In a similar vein, jazz musicians can move in

n o t an abstract one as given by language). There are thus

6. Similarly, how are different tim e and intensity contours

Plan of the book

Chapter 7 addresses various theoretical and practical implica­

The Nature and Theoretical

This chapter explores the basic concepts essential to forms of

The primary role of movement in creating forms

and ontology. Langer (1953, 1969/72) gave movem ent a foun­

that, the difference between a technically adequate perform ­

is sim ilar to th a t g en erated w hen th e activity is actually

Separating vitality forms from the unfolding

Although we often merge the vitality form w ith the experi­

Once inside, the neural circuitry is so interconnected and mul-

Disentangling vitality forms from sensations

question is to consider it from the phenom enological view­

Disentangling vitality forms from emotions

usually feel the quality and action tendencies of an em otion and

Levels of organization of the concept "forms of

Table 2.1 Organizational level of dynamic experience

of life. W hen a newborn hears a sound, he turns his head towards

Ideas from Psychology and

Psychology and the behavioral sciences have m ade repeated

and pull o f m otivations, o f forces being countered, blocked,

James states that the sense of “activity” is synonymous w ith

W erner and colleagues further postulated th at there was a

of W erner’s ideas and m ay help to clarify the “m ultim odality”

A rap id increase in the am plitude o f a sou n d (a “physical

w hich at th e tim e h a d been largely left by the wayside in

action units th a t appear to m ake up a single expression do n o t always

Ekm an & Friesen (1982, p. 242)

These parameters, when translated into subjective terms, come

“vitality affects” was first coined in this context (Stern, 1985).

Stern (1985, p. 140)

m other’s known experience and was sharable between the two.

conscious and usually linked with language, at which point they

three consider the dynamic features as central for intersubjec­

also includes dynamic experiences (e.g. going from slow to fast,

Gallese & Lakoff (2005) partially answer the question and

m et by three different clusters o f neurons. The first indicates

dynamic pentad.” This natural Gestalt gives rise to the experi

Although these words are com m on enough, this list is curi

peripheral vision. W ithout m otion we cannot read in or imag

Chapter 7 addresses various theoretical and practical implica

and ontology. Langer (1953, 1969/72) gave movem ent a foun

that, the difference between a technically adequate perform

Although we often merge the vitality form w ith the experi

question is to consider it from the phenom enological view

three consider the dynamic features as central for intersubjec

at hand. Accordingly the quantity of arousal can and m ust fluctu

However, unlike music, it had no standard comprehensive cod

An actor enters from back-stage-left and runs downstage at a moder

In approaching the divan, he takes three slow-motion high steps as i f step

Probably proprioception, goal-directed intentionality, and pre