Wednesday, August 13, 2025

What Bessel van der Kolk Got Wrong: A Spiritual Companion’s Reflection on Trauma

The Score We Keep

Bessel van der Kolk’s The Body Keeps the Score has become a sacred text in trauma discourse. It’s cited in therapy rooms, yoga studios, and spiritual circles alike. And yet, as spiritual companions, we must ask: what score are we keeping, and whose story does it serve?

This post is not a dismissal of van der Kolk’s contributions, but a gentle unearthing of what lies beneath the surface—what he missed, what he misrepresented, and how we, as spiritual companions, can hold trauma in ways that honor the soul’s journey toward wholeness.

I want to add a different term for "trauma". The term 'spiritual imbalance' has been used in some indigenous cultures to refer to the experience van der Kolk terms 'trauma'. I find it interesting to use that phrase as a way to expand how I think, and to remove the overused (and let's face it) buzzword: trauma. When we speak of spiritual imbalance rather than trauma, we shift from a clinical framework that often focuses on damage and pathology to one that suggests the possibility of restoration and realignment. This language invites us to consider not just what has been broken, but what sacred equilibrium might be recovered. It acknowledges that our deepest wounds often occur at the level of spirit and meaning, disrupting our connection to ourselves, our communities, and our sense of place in the larger web of existence. The word 'imbalance' itself carries hope—it suggests that what has been thrown off-kilter can, with proper tending, be brought back into harmony.

This reframing also honors the wisdom of cultures that understand healing as a restoration of spiritual wholeness rather than simply the absence of symptoms.

Neuroscience of PTSD. ScienceWorks Behavioural Healthcare. Kiesa Kelly

The Critique: What the Body Doesn’t Keep

Several scholars and clinicians have raised concerns about van der Kolk’s work:

Misrepresentation of Research
Psychiatrist Michael Scheeringa’s The Body Does Not Keep the Score (2024) reviews 122 claims from van der Kolk’s book and finds many to be unsupported or cherry-picked. Scheeringa argues that van der Kolk overlooks the diathesis-stress model, which suggests that brain differences in PTSD may predate trauma, not result from it.
Depoliticization of Spiritual Imbalance
Layla AlAmmar, a scholar of literary trauma theory, critiques van der Kolk for advancing an individualized view of spiritual imbalance that ignores systemic and political contexts. In her words: “This book is trash.” Her critique points to how marginalized victims are further erased in van der Kolk’s narrative.
Stigmatization and Victim-Blaming
The book opens with a story of a veteran who committed atrocities during war. Van der Kolk centers the veteran’s suffering without acknowledging the victims. This framing risks reinforcing hierarchies of spiritual imbalance and neglecting the sacred dignity of all beings harmed.

Archeological Dig. Designed by Wannapik

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie: A Reconsideration of Unearthing

Van der Kolk’s model assumes that trauma must be excavated, faced, and reprocessed. This is the foundation of many trauma therapies: exposure, EMDR, somatic experiencing. But what if healing doesn’t always require digging?

Some practitioners and scholars argue that focusing on health, resilience, and present-moment safety can be just as—if not more—effective than revisiting pain:

Existential and Philosophical Perspectives
Trauma theorist B. T. Reuther suggests that over-focusing on trauma can hinder a full understanding of human experience. Instead, integrating spiritual imbalance into a broader existential framework allows for healing through meaning-making and embodiment.
Pluralistic Counseling Psychology
Catherine Athanasiadou-Lewis critiques the dominance of trauma-focused cognitive behavioral models. She advocates for eclectic and psychodynamic approaches that honor the complexity of the psyche and allow for healing without direct confrontation.
Ethical Concerns
Anne Rothe’s critique of postmodern trauma theory warns against turning "trauma" into a sacred object that must be unearthed and venerated. She calls this “irresponsible nonsense,” arguing that such models can confuse victimhood, retraumatize listeners, and obscure ethical clarity.

DBT for Trauma. ScienceWorks Behavioral Healthcare. Kiesa Kelly

The Spiritual Lens: Spiritual Imbalance as Sacred Threshold

In spiritual companionship, spiritual imbalance is not pathology. What can it be if we apply a spiritual or wholeness lens?

Wholeness Over Wounding
Van der Kolk’s model often implies that spiritual imbalance leaves us permanently broken. But spiritual traditions teach that wounds are portals. As Rumi says, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” We must move from scorekeeping to soul-tending.
Embodiment Without Fixation
While van der Kolk emphasizes body-based therapies, he sometimes treats the body as a battleground. In contrast, spiritual practice invites us to inhabit the body as a temple. We are not attempting to fix something broken. We show up to listen. Yoga, breathwork, and movement are not cures; they are conversations.
Relational Holding
Trauma healing is not a solo endeavor. Companions hold space. We do not diagnose. We witness. We do not ask, “What happened to you?” but “What is seeking to be born through this pain?”

For the Companion: How We Hold What Hurts

As spiritual companions, we are called to:

Resist reduction: Avoid reducing spiritual imbalance to neurobiology or symptomology. Honor its mystery, its mythic dimension.
Center the margins: Hold stories that dominant narratives erase. Listen for the voices beneath the score.
Practice presence: Healing is not accomplished through pure technique. It requires presence. It is the sacred act of sitting beside someone in their becoming.

Beyond the Score

Van der Kolk gave us language for trauma. But language is not the whole story. The soul speaks in symbols, silence, and sacred rupture. As companions, we travel with questions, not answers. We travel with awe.

The body may keep the score, but the spirit keeps the song.

Let the dogs lie. Let the soul rise.

Beloved, you are whole, holy and worthy,

Rev. Amy
Companioning soul-weary change-makers becoming rooted, aligned and alive again.

For Further Exploration

van der Kolk, Bessel. The Body Keeps the Score – A foundational text in trauma discourse, exploring how trauma reshapes the body and brain.
Scheeringa, Michael. The Body Does Not Keep the Score – A critical review of van der Kolk’s claims, challenging the scientific basis of trauma narratives.
Rothe, Anne. “Irresponsible Nonsense: An Epistemological and Ethical Critique of Postmodern Trauma Theory” – A sharp critique of trauma theory’s cultural elevation and ethical implications.
AlAmmar, Layla. “This Book is Trash” – A literary trauma scholar’s blunt critique of van der Kolk’s erasure of systemic and marginalized trauma.
Reuther, B. T. “Philosophical and Existential Perspectives on Trauma” – Offers a broader framework for understanding trauma through meaning-making and embodiment.
Athanasiadou-Lewis, Catherine. “A Critical Evaluation of the Conceptual Model and Empirical Evidence for PTSD Treatments” – Advocates for pluralistic approaches beyond trauma-focused CBT.

We Are the Help: A Modern Parable of Divine Action

We Are the Rescue: A Modern Parable of Divine Action

You know the story. The floodwaters are rising, and a faithful person sits on their roof, refusing rescue after rescue. "God will save me," they insist to the Jeep driver, the canoe paddlers, the helicopter pilot. When they arrive in heaven and ask why God didn't save them, the divine response comes: "I sent you a Jeep, a canoe, and a helicopter."

We tell this parable to remind ourselves to recognize divine action in human hands, to accept help when it's offered, to stop waiting for supernatural intervention when real, tangible rescue is right in front of us.

But recently, in conversation with someone wrestling with the weight of our current moment, this familiar story flipped on its head. What if we ask a different question: Who was driving that Jeep? Who was paddling that canoe? Who was piloting that helicopter?

We were.

Flood, New Hartford, IA June 9 2008, The U.S. National Archives

The Flood Is Upon the Rescuers Too

Here's what the traditional telling doesn't acknowledge: the people showing up to help aren't standing on dry ground. The Jeep driver is navigating rising waters. The canoe paddlers are in the flood themselves, choosing to use their vessel to reach someone else. The helicopter pilot is flying through the storm.

We are all in this flood together. And somehow, miraculously, divinely, we keep showing up for each other anyway.

This reframe transforms everything about how we understand our role in the world's current crises. We're not just called to accept help when the divine sends it through human hands—we're called to be those hands, even when we're struggling to keep our own heads above water.

Sacred Responsibility in Hard Times

When we flip the parable this way, it reveals something profound about divine action and human responsibility. If we are the hands and feet of the divine in this world, then our showing up for each other isn't just good citizenship or moral duty—it's sacred work.

The person driving through flood zones to check on neighbors isn't just being helpful; they're participating in divine rescue. The community organizer working to protect vulnerable populations isn't just doing politics; they're engaging in holy work. The minister crafting messages about love and commitment when everything feels overwhelming isn't just doing their job; they're serving as a conduit for divine possibility.

But here's the thing that makes this both beautiful and heartbreaking: we're doing this sacred work while we're also the ones who need rescuing.

The Joy and Weight of Being Divine Agents

This understanding carries both tremendous weight and unexpected lightness. The weight comes from recognizing that if we are the divine rescue that shows up for others, then the work really is up to us. We can't wait for someone else to fix what's broken. We are the someone else.

But the lightness—and this is crucial—comes from remembering that we don't have to do this work alone, and we don't have to do it without joy.

Maybe I don't have a jeep, but I have a song to sing while you paddle the canoe. Maybe I don't have a helicopter, but I have a friend who has a friend who lives near the airfield (and I'm not afraid to ask.)

Even in the flood, there can be connection. Even in crisis, there can be moments of beauty. Even when we're rescuing others, we can experience the profound satisfaction of being part of something larger than ourselves, of participating in divine action in the world.

Rescue Personnel respond to Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans, LA. Combined Military Service Digital Photographic Files

Recognizing the Sacred in Small Acts

If we're looking for the divine in human rescue efforts, we need to expand our definition of what rescue looks like. It's not just the dramatic helicopter moments. It's also:

The pure joy of pushing a four-year-old grandchild in a swing, creating a moment of delight that ripples beyond just the two of you
Witnessing the small miracle of strangers greeting each other warmly in an airport waiting area, choosing connection over isolation
The decision to do your specific work—developing learning materials for students, writing about love and commitment rather than contributing to despair factories—instead of getting pulled into internet debates or other energy drains
The practice of celebrating completion with something as simple as a joyful checkmark in the air, acknowledging your efforts whether the task was distasteful or routine
Offering a guest room in a safe place for people who need one for a while
The choice to show up authentically in small daily interactions

These small acts of showing up are divine rescue operations happening all around us, carried out by people who are themselves in need of rescue.

Sea Rescue, Wellington, NZ CC2.0

We Are Called to Be the Canoe

The traditional flood parable asks us to recognize divine help when it comes. But the flipped version calls us to something more demanding and more beautiful: to be the help that comes, to be the divine presence that shows up for others, to be willing to get in our canoe and paddle toward someone who's struggling, even though we're in the flood too.

This doesn't mean we have to be saviors or that everything depends on us. It means we're part of a vast network of divine action, a web of people showing up for each other in small and large ways, each of us both giving and receiving rescue.

In these times that feel so overwhelming, so impossible, this reframing offers both challenge and comfort. Yes, the work is ours to do. But no, we don't do it alone. We are simultaneously the drowning and the rescue, the lost and the found, the ones who need saving and the ones who show up to save.

The flood is upon us all. And we keep reaching for each other anyway. If that's not divine action, I don't know what is.

What rescue are you being called to offer today? What help are you being called to accept? Sometimes we are the Jeep, sometimes we are the person on the roof, and sometimes we are both at once.

Beloved,

You are whole, holy, and worthy

Rev. Amy Beltaine

(http://amybeltaine.info)

MoonForestBone