THE PEOPLE IN MY HIPS
Contact:

If you would like to contact me personally, I can be reached at:

thepeopleinmyhips

@gmail.com

 

Follow me on TWITTER 

@peopleinmyhips

 

I post to TWITTER every time I post here.

How to read this...

If you are new to the site, after reading the "home" page, click on "my story in sequence", and read it from beginning to end,  and then log on at your leisure to follow "my story - daily" which is posted on a daily basis. (more or less.)  I am hoping to do at least 5 entries a week if not more - (knowing me it will be more.)  

If you wish to follow one thread, (i.e. INSIGHT) - try searching the site using the thread title and then magically each entry in the thread will appear.

Also, feel free to comment after any entry or tell your story on the "tell your story" link up right.  Thanks again for logging in.  Namaste!

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Review of

The People in my Hips by Ken Wolf

“THE PEOPLE IN MY HIPS is one of the most extraordinary pieces of theatre I have seen on or Off-Broadway in years.

Mr. Wolf’s script is nearly flawless in its eloquence and is one of those rare pieces of work that reminds us of our common humanity. 

Mr. Wolf’s one-man performance is exquisite, inspiring, courageous
and beautifully constructed. I laughed even as I was moved to tears. 

See THE PEOPLE IN MY HIPS soon.

Because you will want to see it again.”

Lise Avery, Anything Goes!!
Internationally Syndicated Radio

 


Untold Stories
How I will be sharing my story...

At this point in time, there are going to be four threads or themes that will power my story. They will be numbered in sequence as I post them.

THE TALE: will tell my People in my Hips story from the beginning through all my "crazy" struggles until the therapeutic "BURP" which healed me 3 years ago.

INSIGHT: will explore in depth and talk about Yoga, depression, PTSD, mental illness, multiple personalities, therapy, childhood sexual and physical abuse and more - often connecting my People in my Hips stories to stories posted on the discussion page, in the news and more.

PLAY: will be about my experience of sharing this story on stage and speaking with individuals after, finding the courage to finally present it, posting pages from the play, posting video of live performance and anything else coming out of that experience.

SOUL: will be about our possibilities, our positive and/or limiting beliefs and our innate power to heal ourselves or to lead ourselves to healing.

And then, we'll see where else this will go.  

 

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Review of

The People in my Hips by Ken Wolf

Martin Denton · January 17, 2009

NYTHEATRE.com

The People in My Hips, written and performed by Ken Wolf, is unlike any theatre piece I've ever seen before.

I feel like I've been saying that a lot lately; the indie theater scene in New York seems more inventive and vibrant than it even usually is these days—a very good thing. But The People in My Hips stands out among the fare I've encountered recently. It's the kind of show that makes me want to put an adverb in front of the word unique—but I won't attempt to modify the unmodifiable.

Playwright-actor-director Wolf attempts something just as impossibly zenlike in this one-man play of his: to revisit the unrevisitable. The People in My Hips is an autobiographical work about events that happened to Wolf within the past seven years. One day, at a yoga class, Wolf suddenly started to experience excruciating pain in his hips. Eventually he came to understand that this pain was a manifestation of energy related to abusive events from his past. Wolf ultimately identified the "people" in his hips as "Little Ken"—himself as a young boy—and the "Dark Man"—some unknown evil presence who had apparently hurt Little Ken decades before. Through a lot of painful exercise and therapy, Wolf was able to exorcise these personal demons, and the pain, he tells us, is now gone.

Except that he warns us, before the show proper starts, that he fears that this very performance may trigger their reappearance. And as we witness the wrenching re-enactment of illness and recovery that Wolf has structured for us in this play, we believe that such a re-emergence could very well occur...may, in fact, be occurring before our eyes.

The play itself is a narrative of the history of Wolf's "people in hips" illness. It's shaped chronologically, with Wolf telling us the story and also commenting on it; he also shows us some videos that he made during the course of these past seven years, which he sometimes interacts with and more often seems eager to be out of the way of. Wolf also, on prerecorded audio, portrays various individuals who attempted to help him find a cure (which, for traditional psychotherapy, would mean unlocking the repressed memories of what "Dark Man" actually did to "Little Ken").

The main theme of the play is to reject that traditional treatment and to embrace the healing powers that each of us innately possesses. The climax of the piece comes with a yoga-fed acceptance of the past rather than a dramatic whodunit-style revelation. Catharsis is nevertheless achieved.

It's hard to tell where Wolf the actor-playwright ends and Wolf the still-evolving-and-healing-human begins, which may itself be a testament to Wolf's performance prowess. The show is consistently compelling and a lot funnier than I'm sure I've made it sound. It's involving and maybe even harrowing in places, but at the end of the journey we feel lifted up. Wolf cautions in the program that The People in My Hips is a play and not a seminar, but there is certainly advice offered here that audience members can choose to accept or reject. "The seminars will begin after I get on Oprah," Wolf adds in his note.

The determination it took to make this play may well land him on TV.

 

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Saturday
Oct302010

THE TALE # 68 - THE STORY UNFOLDS and my Watcher revealed!

All roads converge at Starbucks, and to healing, even if it is 40 years later.

I was originally going to go to the bigger Starbucks in Marmaroneck for I had a hole in my schedule and I could do some work on my laptop but I decided on a whim to go to the little and nearer Starbucks in Rye Brook to save some time.

As I was parking, I saw her.  My sister Margie getting out of her Honda Civic.  Bizarre.  Whenever I met her it was always at the Starbucks in Rye.  She was here unexpectedly, and so was I.  This was not an accident.  It was time to learn more.

“Ken, I have more for you.  I remembered more in therapy.  Do you want to hear?”

“Yes, I do. I really do.”

My younger sister Margie was my WATCHER.  During our conversation here at Starbucks in Rye Ridge, NY, 15 minutes ago, she gave me permission to reveal her identity.

“So I have remembered more. I knew there was a piece missing.  There was one place where I would get nauseous whenever I would relive it in therapy.  How could I know he had squinty eyes if I was so far away when I saw him beating you?  That was the question that was driving me crazy.”

Since our meeting in the park when she first revealed to me that she was witness to my beating with an aluminum baseball bat by THE DARK MAN, she has been obsessed about remembering and actually traveled up to our old home in Yorktown where all this took place so many years ago.  In the process of retracing her steps, she actually ran into the grandson of THE DARK MAN and had a conversation with him!  What happened to her 40 years ago for the most part was very very real now, with just few holes in her consciousness.

“After I saw him beating you and he saw me, I ran. I didn’t know what to do. And then I was grabbed by someone. I turned. It was his wife! “Your brother has been a bad boy, a very bad boy. You can’t tell anyone, you will get hurt if you do.” She screamed. I pulled away and ran.  I was at the curb now, and my shoe got stuck in the sewer drain there, and fell off and I ran away without it.  I ran up the block. I didn’t know what to do.  Now here is the part, that has been dark, where I would always get nauseous, every time we would do the therapy, I would get nauseous.  But I remember now, not totally, but I remember now.”

And then she told me how THE DARK MAN, when he saw her must have run up behind our house and cut her off, and then confronted her.  

“He was like an animal, he was so mad, like an animal, and that is when I saw his squinty eyes.  That is when I saw them, those eyes, those squinty eyes, that is when I saw them.”

He then must have shoved her down on to the ground, telling her not to tell anyone.  (I must have been unconscious while this was going on.)  Then somehow, she doesn’t remember yet, she was able to get away and run, and then with only one shoe, she ran up the block, across backyards and then down a cul de sac where she hid in the bushes in fear.  About a half hour later, she slowly walked back frightened out of her mind to see if I was ok.  From down the block, she saw me slowly walking up the lawn from the DARK MAN’s house to our house.  I was alive.  She then followed me up, and went in the back door to our house and curled up in a ball on the couch, never talking to me about it, or at least that is the case in her memory now.

Walking up to the house is one memory that kept reoccurring in me during my People in my Hips journey.  Walking up to the house thinking “ I can’t tell anyone about this. HE WILL KILL ME IF I DO.  I HAVE TO KEEP IT A SECRET or I will die.”  

That is when my unconscious mind made the choice to make me forget.

I am sitting here in Starbucks weeping…

 

40 years later. How many times has my unconscious mind caused me to forget in 40 years?

How much of my reality and self image are real, or has my mind been picking and choosing to erase events so that I can function and feel good about myself?

That is a crazy ass question.  I am not going there.  Not today.

 

Margie had to run to work, but before that I had her plot out the path she ran on a make shift map I drew with a Red Sharpie on a Starbucks napkin.

 

“This was the most incredible thing I have ever experienced.” She said softly.

“Me too.”

We are connected now. Profoundly connected.  Her story brings validity and truth to mine, and mine to hers.

Even her therapist, who viewed this site and all the videos, said that it seemed like both of us were telling the SAME story, that was somehow lost in our unconscious minds.

When Margie was in Yorktown, retracing her steps, when she talked with the GRANDSON of THE DARK MAN, she discovered that THE DARK MAN divorced his first wife, and remarried.  The woman who grabbed her to protect her CRAZY HUSBAND, was not the woman who was widowed when the DARK MAN died in the car accident in 2006.  His first wife, THE DARK WOMAN, was still alive.  She was 76 and she still lived in Yorktown.

“ I think we should go and talk with her.” I said tentatively.

“I don’t know.”

“ I think we should.”

“Let’s talk.  I gotta run.”

 

We hugged, a long silent hug.

 

I am sitting here wondering what I should do.  Part of me loves the idea of talking with this woman for it could be an amazing closure and completion of this story, but part of me is frightened, the child part of me, the part of me that split off and became Baby Ken living in my hips.

I can’t go back there.  I won’t.  I never want to ever be in that place again. That place where I battled the DEMONS inside.

But I want to know more.

 

I will keep you posted.

 

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