I'm glad it might be something for you to investigate.

I didn't think of it as spiritual, but I can see where aspects bear some resemblance to certain Buddhist practices, or Christian prayer experiences, especially within the mystic tradition. I think it can be infinitely adapted to be more directly spiritual, or to fit within an existing spiritual practice if that's meaningful. What's important is that the image resonates and that there is the level of trust to allow for the T to be a co-creator and facilitator of the process.

I honestly don't remember how often we repeated it or how long it lasted. The first few times were sequential and took most of the session time, but that's because the relaxation preparation took time. As I got better at it, I could enter that relaxed state much more quickly. The visualization itself I think took about 10-15 minutes. Over the course of about 6 months, I think we addressed it for a part of most sessions; more often at the beginning, and maybe every 2-3 sessions in the last couple of months. After that, maybe once every few months.

After reading your comment on mirror neurons, I suspect this is somehow connected. And may explain the powerful and lasting effects of it. Safety, huge reduction in "existential" anxiety, increased feelings of patience, security, bonding, holding, containment.

I should mention that when he held the bowl, he didn't hold it in his hands by the edges, but rather wrapped his arms around it, as though cradling a baby.
I think that was important for me. It's a small detail, but it shows how the images of the visualization really need to be personalized for it to work beyond a simple anxiety reduction ritual.

I can still summon up that feeling state, though now it's mostly the feeling of being held and secure and a warmth. At my last session, my T asked if I'd like to take the bowl. I hadn't needed it to remain on his desk for years, so I really hadn't thought about where it was. He retrieved it from a cupboard, and since then it sits on my desk at home--except for one piece of sea glass that I've carried in my change purse around much of the world.