Archive for March, 2008

Mind Blower: Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor’s Stroke And Recovery

Thursday, March 13th, 2008

 

I just had my mind blown by a woman who had hers blown literally: Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor, a neuroanatomist, had a stroke that was made to order—for my purposes, anyway—and recovered to tell about it. I hypothesized just such a stroke in Bare Brains Episode Four, and talked about the implications at some depth.

I first read about her a few days ago in Wired News, and downloaded the PDF of her book, My Stroke of Insight, from lulu.com. I anticipated writing about it when I finished digesting it, but today’s New York Times had a link to the video of her talk at the Ted Conference, and I wanted to pass it along posthaste.

Her stroke was a rare kind that involved hemorrhaging, and certain crucial areas of her left hemisphere were shut down progressively over a few hours. She became unable to speak or understand language, and unable to distinguish herself from her environment. With her left hemisphere activity so diminished, the activity in her right hemisphere became prominent enough to achieve consciousness. (That’s not her description; I’m putting my spin on it.)

She talked about the expansiveness of her right-brained experience: the feeling of unity with the environment, with all other human beings—with the universe itself. She contrasted that with her left-brained experience of separation and individualism, and encouraged our learning to switch between the two points of view—what the old Zen guys would call moving freely between the two realms. I am certainly in favor of developing this kind of flexibility—it’s life altering and enhancing.

Her description of right hemisphere consciousness was beautiful and inspiring, but of course she could only describe it after the fact—after her left brain had recovered enough to attach language and concepts to the experience. As is always the case, then, how her left brain described the experience was a result of all her prior history, and the values and concepts that had evolved in that history. I’m entirely sympathetic with her perspective, but I suspect that I have been exposed to a wider range of cultural variation than she has, and have, perhaps, a broader context within which to view her experience (I am pretty old, remember). Episode Four, which I mentioned earlier, goes on at length about this broader context.

While I’m a total advocate of learning fluidity of perspective, at the same time—and unfortunately—I’m afraid it’s a practice that will not be widely pursued any time soon. Too much of the world’s population is absorbed in the more basic left-brained pursuit of food, clothing, shelter and mates. When we all become educated, prosperous, and enlightened…

In the meantime, we do what we can: help, educate, advocate.

 

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Left Brain says, “Foam;” Right Brain Just Hums

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Is Love Personal?

Wednesday, March 12th, 2008

 

I’ve been hearing and reading a lot lately about the human need for love and approval. Everything I’ve said or written relates to that subject more or less directly, but I thought that perhaps I might get more specific.

 

I do believe that there’s an inherent need for human beings to have feedback from our fellow humans, especially in the formative years. We have to know whether or not we are communicating with our fellows, and whether they understand what we say. Based on the kind of feedback we get from them, our brains come to conclusions about how well we’re interacting and communicating, and in a general sense, about who we are. Our identity grows out of our interaction with other people, and with the physical world, based on feedback from both. We come to have expectations about how other people will relate to us, and how we will relate to them, and whether the outcome will be to our benefit or not.

 

Unfortunately, it seems that most people don’t understand this process. They don’t understand that their identity and their expectations are products of everything that has ever happened to them, every interaction they’ve ever had. They did not create their identity, their expectations, or their preferences, nor did anyone else create theirs. No one deserves praise or blame for who they happen to be, any more than “Tsunami” deserves praise or blame for the devastation it wrought—we’re all equally products of circumstances. If you’ve been with me for a while, all of this should sound familiar.

 

So if someone says they love me, or they approve of me, or they think I’m handsome (it happens—rarely—but it does happen :o), what does it mean? It means that the circumstances that produced them, and the circumstances that produced me, happened to converge into two entities which match along certain parameters. Neither of us are responsible for this convergence, and there’s no reason for either to take the other’s reaction as a reflection of our general worth—or lack of it. We can certainly enjoy their response to us if it’s favorable, and can tentatively make projections about the likely course of future interactions. We can also make projections about future interactions if their reaction is unfavorable, but we don’t have to take it personally.

 

If we truly understand that we are part of the natural world, and that all our relationships with other people are like the relationships between the oceans and the continents—totally a product of circumstances—our anxieties about those relationships can be greatly reduced. This doesn’t mean that we’re not interested in our well-being, or hopeful that all our relationships are felicitous, but we can develop a certain objectivity about how all the world’s processes play themselves out.

 

Living near the coast, I certainly hope that Antarctica doesn’t melt; but if it does, I won’t take it personally, any more than I will take it personally if that little red-haired girl just doesn’t happen to like me.

 

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This Feather Cares for Me Deeply

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