NEFESH: The International Network of Orthodox Mental Health Professionals

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In My Mind (and on the couch)
Mindy Blumenfeld, LCSW

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A Selection Of Articles, Musings, And Information Detailing The Struggles Of The Ordinary Person; A Celebration Of The Individual's Resilience To Overcome Challenges And Live Authentically.

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Open reader view Sandtray Secrets: When my clients play with sand and stuff

Mindy Blumenfeld, LCSW

July 31st, 2016

A few years ago, I walked into a colleague's therapy office, and I didn't want to leave. From floor to ceiling, her shelves were lined with hundreds of miniatures. Miniature people, objects, and landscapes; realistic, fantastical, magical, and mythical. And in the center of her room was a sandbox.

“Sandtray therapy,” she said, noticing my reaction. “I do sandtray with my clients.”

Her clients were adults, not children.

When I was a student of social work, interning in an agency, I worked with children. And the method of therapy was play therapy. I remember walking into a play therapy room for the first time, and all I wanted to do was get onto the floor and play. With the lego and dolls and dollhouse and the modeling clay. Most of all I itched to dig my hands into the clay and simply create. Feel the sensation of the clay in my hands. And when my little clients played with clay, I simply picked up the clay and played with them.

I don't work with children anymore. Only teens and adults. But the awe of play therapy, the magic of sandtray therapy inspired me. And when I finally found a training workshop in sandplay therapy, I registered and created an area in my therapy office in which clients could use the sand as another tool of therapy. Often, when I am finished work for the day, I uncover my sandbox, a 12” X 191/2” box that stands on a rolling cart, randomly choose miniatures from my shelves, and play. I do not think about what I do. I just choose my miniatures and then place them in the sand, creating a sandtray. When I finish, I take a step back and watch what I have done. I do not take pictures because it would be as revealing as leaving my personal diary around. I learn much about myself in that time.

So what is sandtray therapy?

It's the use of miniatures and sand. It's a non-verbal approach to therapy when it is too painful to speak. It is a kinesthetic experience, the sheer pleasure of running one's hands through the sand, of handling the miniatures, that often allows for the release of verbal communication.

What makes sandtray fascinating is that no matter which set of theories guide a therapist's work, sandtray can be used within the individual's context.

Actually, the are two terms used for the use of sand and miniatures in therapy: sandtray and sandplay. Sandtray refers to an eclectic usage of this therapy, many modalities of therapy, while sandplay refers specifically to Jungian theory in therapy (if you care to know more, you can look it up).

There are specifications of how large the sand tray needs to be, requirements that it be a blue sand tray. The categories of miniatures with which to begin a collection for use in therapy (people, structures, plants, animals, vehicles, and magical objects—to name a few), the depth of the sand in the tray, and allowing for the use of both wet and dry sand.

There's the symbolism of various objects. Candles symbolize hope and transformation; snakes are a threat. Objects and people may be buried under the sand; flooded sand speaks of a lack of boundaries.

I have a client (who has graciously allowed me to share this anecdote with you) who cannot speak. The pain she carries is so great that it is very scary to speak, to allow it to see the light of day. She is a beautiful human being, sensitive, caring, talented, and deep.

When she saw the new shelves of miniatures, she was overwhelmed by them. She did not want to look at them, to touch them. It was as if the words she had buried inside of her, the stories she would not remember were sitting on the shelves in plain sight. She refused to engage in sandtray even though I thought (what do I know, right?) it would be a way to help her speak, even without words.

But we talked about sandtray therapy in an abstract way. Not about her. In general. Sometimes, sometimes we do that. Talk generally. Because the specifics are too painful. And because she is intelligent. And because she works with children so any kind of play medium piques her interest. And I talk about mandalas in sandtray.

At the training, our instructor showed us slides of one client's sandtrays over a course of time. The beginning ones were chaotic, the symbolism raw. Wrecked parties. People sprawled on the floor, the table overturned and the little objects scattered in and about the sand. Later sandtrays showed some people upright, the birthday table a little less messy. And the themes of the sandtray continued to emerge in different images the client created.

And then another picture of the sandtray flashed across the screen, and there was a collective gasp from our group. The sandtray was a simply marvelous, beautiful work that one could not help but gasp at its beauty.

“This is a mandala,” our instructor explained. “It is a symetrical work in sandtray that has a definite center, and in the four corners of the sandtray, the client will put protective objects or figures. That is its beauty. And the most remarkable thing about the mandala in sandtray therapy is that a client will create it unknowingly, and at a time when they are experiencing a centeredness, a grounding, when therapy is healing.”

My client left after the session, and the next morning I received a text from her. “After discussing mandalas yesterday, I thought I would share what my [4 year old] daughter drew this morning. She happens to be in a good place currently.”

And attached to the text was a remarkable drawing, a mandala, by this four year old child. There was the symmetry, the four corners boldly delineated, and a definite center.

There is the most beautiful concept in sandtray of the liminal. Liminal refers to that space in—between that is prevalent in the cycle of life, cycle of seasons, cycle of day. The liminal time of day and night is twilight; the space that is neither day nor night. In that space is where change can occur. The liminal space between land and water is the beach; the sand.

And with sandtray therapy, we give the client that liminal space in the therapy room; their very own beach, their very own sand where change can occur.

NOTE: THIS WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN A REVISED FORM FOR BINAH MAGAZINE