Posts Tagged ‘science’

Science, Anger, and Forgiveness

Wednesday, March 5th, 2008

Originally posted on 07-19-07:

 

About 6 years into my AA experience, I got very angry at my parents. I had read a couple of books by John Bradshaw, popular in certain segments of AA at the time, and I got so angry I called my parents and told them how sick they were, and how their sickness had infected me and made me sick and miserable. They had no idea what I was talking about, but they were apologetic, sorry I was so unhappy, etc.

 

My anger got less intense over time, but what eventually eliminated it was a scientific understanding of human behavior.

 

Many people have an aversive reaction to the word “science,” but we are all scientists, whether we recognize it or not. Everyone who follows a recipe, makes a phone call, drives a car or flies in an airplane is doing an experiment. They follow directions, and if they get the expected outcome, it means that the directions reliably lead to predictable results—that’s all science is, developing recipes for reliable results. The theories of science, ideas about why things happen reliably, are only useful if they suggest ideas that can be tested to find new, reliable, and hitherto unknown recipes. If a theory doesn’t suggest any testable ideas, it is useless, and if a theory is developed which explains all the previous results and leads to still more new testable ideas, it is more useful than the old theory and replaces it. That is why science is always changing its explanations—it finds more useful ones.

 

Thanks to my history, I have always been interested in science—sometimes more than others—and my ability to apply it to my own life and problems has improved over the years.

 

As science has improved its understanding of the workings of the brain, it has become totally obvious to neuroscientists, and to anyone who follows the literature—even the popular media versions—that no one makes themselves who they are. Brains are very complex systems, and given their individual, biological attributes, and the environments they are placed in, they evaluate information and come to conclusions without there being any agent, or self, in control.

 

My parents didn’t make themselves into the people they were. They were born and raised in southern Alabama, in a primitive Christian culture, with very little formal education—third grade for Dad and tenth for Mom—and it makes as much sense to be angry at them for being shaped by that environment as it would to be angry at them for being white. There was nothing in them that could have altered the reactions of their particular brains to the particular environments they grew up in.

 

Certainly who they were had consequences for me and their other children—some pleasant and some unpleasant—but there was no way they could make themselves different than who they were.

 

If anger at people for being who they are is irrational, forgiving them for who they are is equally irrational. What sense does it make to forgive someone for having one leg shorter than the other?

 

Of course, my irrational anger and resentment toward them were conditioned over a long period of time, and those reactions don’t disappear immediately. It’s as difficult as breaking any other bad habit when you realize that it’s causing you harm.

 

Fortunately,  or so it seems to me, my interest in this area of science continued, and the more convinced I became of the science, the more my reactions were defused. I came to see the scientific explanation as applying to everyone, not just my parents, and came to see that everyone’s reactions to me, and mine to them, were the result of circumstances over which no one had control. If someone dislikes me, it is no more their fault—or mine—than it is the stream’s fault for following the crevice in the rock, or the rock’s fault for having a crevice in that particular place.

 

Everything that is—human or otherwise—results from the playing out of natural forces in varying permutations and combinations. The possibilities are endless in their complex variety—no two sunsets are the same, even though they are all made of light, dust, clouds and wind.

 

We are all blameless: deserving no anger, needing no forgiveness.

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These Thorns Are All Your Fault

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Love, Love, Love: The Need and Evolution

Tuesday, March 4th, 2008

Originally posted on 05-16-07:

 

At some point I’ll talk about the importance of daily routines, but for now I’ll just note that I read something every morning to remind me of the nature of reality as I understand it. These days I’m slowly making my way through the Fall, 2006 issue of Tricycle, as some may have guessed, and the subject of today is an article by Dara Mayers called, “Love Divine.” It’s about an Indian Hindu guru affectionately known as Amma, the hugging guru. The author’s main point is that Amma makes anyone she hugs, or who is even in her presence, feel loved. That is her gift, the source of her attraction.

 

Anytime the subject of love comes up, I think of oxytocin, a hormone and neurotransmitter. The linked article covers it pretty well, and I’ve already talked about it at length in the podcast, Bare Brains Episode One. I’m sure oxytocin is involved in peoples’ experiences with Amma, but what I want to talk about now is the great attraction of being loved.

 

I think that the evolutionary value of the experience of love is as social cement: it binds parents to children and vice versa, spouses to each other, and members to groups. Emotional connection is much more powerful than rational connection, and predates the ability of organisms—namely us—to be rational, to reason with language. So I think there is a strong biological base for the emotion of love, and when we are experiencing it we are in the grips of our physiology—hormones and neurotransmitters.

 

Integral with the role of love as social cement is a corresponding need to feel “cemented.” In the article, Dara Mayers poignantly communicates her personal yearning for the feeling of connectedness that love brings, and I certainly felt the lack of connectedness in my younger days—it is not pleasant. In fact, the Buddha would lump it in with the many other forms of suffering.

 

Two things, at least, have helped to free me from that yearning and from many other forms of suffering. One is that the feeling of love is pretty much content free, meaning it has little or nothing to do with any personal features of either of the parties involved. Knowledge of personal features only comes with lengthy, intimate exposure to another person, and often—in the case of spouses particularly—the feeling of love often gets overridden by familiarity with another persons habits, hygiene, preferences, and values.

 

What happens between lovers would probably happen with Amma and any of her followers in the unlikely event of prolonged intimate contact. Many who have become intimate with gurus have found them quite human in everyday life, with a goodly measure of human foibles.

 

The point, then, is that the emotion of love produces a feeling of valuing the other person and being valued by them that doesn’t often stand the test of time. Our value, our worth as a human being, is on shaky ground if it depends on the opinion of another person. There’s an old Chinese saying: “If you can’t do it for yourself, who can do it for you?” How to do it for yourself is a big subject, which hopefully will be covered as we move along.

 

The other realization that has helped me tremendously is that the feeling of loving and being loved exists as a particular state of chemical/neuronal activity in the brain. It doesn’t matter what external stimulus provokes it—Amma or your high school sweetheart—it’s the same brain state in either case. If you can get your finger on the button, you can produce the emotion of love on call, which I’m fairly sure Amma has mastered: You can’t project that feeling to another human being unless you have it yourself—we’re too good at reading subtle social cues, at least most of the time.

 

How to find the button? Understanding the science helps, but ultimately you have to practice intimacy with your brain—meditation—for which I recommend David Harp’s The New Three-Minute Meditator, although there are other, equally non-religious guides.

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This Bug Loves This Flower

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