The Short Version

Last night I was putting together my usual bedtime snack and had gotten to the stage of adding blueberries and chopped nuts, which live in the freezer. As I opened the freezer door, it occurred to me that my fat intake for the day was adequate, so I decided to omit the nuts. No sooner had the blueberry container touched the countertop, however, than the thought occurred to me: well, I guess I decided to have the nuts after all, and opened the freezer door again. The moment that thought occurred, it was followed by another: no, the brain decided.

I talk, write, and think a lot about how “I” am not in charge of my brain, and although that is an intellectual constant, the habit of using “I” in my mental verbalizations is a hard one to break. Giving our “selves” credit for our thoughts and actions is a social necessity that can’t be dispensed with, and that unavoidable usage makes the “I” difficult to expunge–something that a particular neural network in my brain would very much like to do. This network would like to have my thinking consistently conform to reality as I understand it–to see through the habitual illusion. It is taking steps to reinforce itself, and occasionally it has a period of ascendancy, like last night. (I’m afraid all this “neural network” stuff sounds totally obscure if you haven’t read the Journal or listened to the Bare Brains podcasts–that’s where you’ll find the “long” versions.)

For a period last night, and in brief episodes today, I have gazed in awe at my brain’s amazing accomplishments–eating, walking, seeing, etc.–like a kid watching its parents do something wonderful and incomprehensible. For me, that state is much preferable to what is more often the case: the kid walking around boasting about the accomplishments of its parents as if he had done them all by himself.

One of the tactics the clear-thinking version of myself uses is to insert “it” for “I,” (except in public): “It” thinks, prefers, decides, etc., rather than “I,” giving the brain the credit. Writing and talking about the reality of who I am serves to reinforce that reality, too, of course, along with reading confirmational writings. In the end it comes down to paying attention.

Perhaps the trickiest thing to think about is the feeling of determination: “I am going to lose that five pounds, dammit!” It feels so intensely that I am making the effort; I am doing the hard work. Aren’t I? The truth is, those kinds of feelings are tools the brain uses to get things done. Emotions and feelings are part and parcel of the motivational system supplied by evolution, including both the pain and discomfort they involve. Can you imagine anyone going to the trouble of food-gathering and preparation without hunger and satiation? Can you imagine anyone going to the trouble of sex and child-rearing without dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin? Even though it feels like I want, and I am determined, it’s just the brain’s machinery grinding away; following programs built up over millions of years.

So give “me” a break, will ya?

Boat and Ripples “Making” Reflections 

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I seem to have acquired a beneficial habit. I think it began one day when I happened to notice that my face in the mirror had a very grumpy expression. The thought emerged, “Hey dude, lighten up,” and I smiled. That reminded me of an idea that’s been floating around for some time: that the facial muscles are interconnected with the emotions, such that, on the one hand, emotions trigger facial expressions, and on the other, facial expressions trigger emotions. It seems to be a two-way street. Based on that I resolved, facing myself in the mirror, that I would smile more often.

I started noticing that same grumpy expression in various other circumstances, and that it was accompanied by a mildly negative mental state. Each time I noticed it, I would smile, and at the same time would find myself feeling amused.

It seemed that a grumpy-face-recognition module had emerged in my brain, and every time it was activated it produced a smile and a livelier mood. My brain’s evolution had apparently produced an automatic behavior modification system, with a built-in reward circuit.

Soon I realized that it was being activated by things other than a grumpy face. As I went through the day, I would notice the occasional mental gaffe–like opening the freezer instead of the refrigerator door–or a very common one which I have labeled, “trajectory error:” 

My brain seems to have a defect in its trajectory-calculation module, which occurs most often in trying to move an object from one location to another. For example, the objective might be to remove a cup from the cabinet and place it on the counter, but my brain seems to overlook the shelf that the cup is sitting on. Instead of moving the cup out and down, my brain prefers a straight line, which unfortunately intersects the shelf in question with an unpleasant clunk. My former response to such an event was to mentally note, “trajectory error,” but the mentally-noting module’s response has been replaced by the smiling-mood-lifter (SML) module’s response. Sometimes I even chuckle.

Of course, it’s very nice to find myself smiling and happy through the day, amused by the emergence of grumpy-face, trajectory-error, and various other mental aberrations. But a couple of days ago, an even more impressive accomplishment of this new module surfaced. I was engaged in the making-the-bed ritual, which precedes the first-cup-of-coffee ritual, when I realized I was depressed. I was thinking about possible activities I might pursue in the coming day, and none of them sounded interesting. In fact, they sounded less than interesting: they sounded like drudgery. I wondered what might have brought that on, then remembered that I had been to the gym the day before, and realized I was tired. That realization activated the SML module, replacing the depression, and I thought, wow, that’s nice!

But a few minutes later, I noticed another depressed thought, followed by the observation: Man, we are really stuck in depressed mode today. That observation re-activated the SML module, and depression was again replaced by amusement. In all, it took about three activations before my mood stabilized in the happy zone. Of course, that first cup of coffee may have had something to do with it, giving my brain’s new self-modification system some ingested chemical help.

Then yesterday, going down in the elevator, I noticed myself heaving a sigh of relief at this brief break in the day’s activity, and the sigh activated a smile. This could get to be a real habit.

Yes, This Makes Me Smile, Too 

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