Am I my brain? Am I somewhere inside my brain? If there are two halves, which side am I on? Am I alone in there, or part of a group? And who’s asking these annoying questions, anyway?
The human mind is a wondrous thing. Even the most pessimistic of us proceed each day with an astounding level of confidence about what we know, and what we’re capable of knowing. We do this, in part, by artificially filling in the gaps in our knowledge.
At least that’s what I do. And there are plenty of gaps.
When I don’t know something and don’t have the time or inclination to learn it, I make it up. If I’m aware that I’m doing this, I tell myself that I’m temporarily stuffing the empty space with fluffy material that I can later replace with the real thing. It’s like when we hang a jacket over the back of a chair to save a seat for someone: sooner or later, a three-dimensional person is going to show up and justify the pretense.
Just as often, I simply don’t have the necessary intelligence. No one is capable of understanding everything, after all, a thought that provides some comfort every time I try to read Einstein’s general theory of relativity, or learn a dance step, or refill a stapler. But my mind persists in fooling itself. I continue to fantasize about meeting with the planet’s leading physicists as we try to pin down a more precise explanation for the force of gravity. When I’m feeling less ambitious, I imagine starring in a remake of Top Hat, giving an electrifying performance that threatens to make the world all but forget Fred Astaire. On my most feeble days, I want no more than to get through a twenty-four-hour period without inadvertently piercing my hand with a piece of office equipment.
Usually, though, the haze in my head is the result of a long series of unconscious adjustments. There’s certainly no mischievous intent. The impulse is one of sheer necessity. It just isn’t possible to know everything I think I’m supposed to know, and to keep it all stored in an orderly way. So I fake it.
I have to resort to this kind of trick even with something as basic as the alphabet. In my mind, I can picture the first four letters – A, B, C, and D. They’re sharp and in focus. At the other end are X, Y, and Z, solid and aligned. In between, however, is a fuzzy string of characters whose names and order I can identify only when I need to concentrate on that part of the sequence. For the rest of the time, those nineteen letters hang like mismatched socks on a clothesline, shrouded in fog and blowing around in the wind. I can see their outline and sense their weight, but their faces are blurred.
The same thing seems to happen with geography. I know that Nevada fits into the bend in California, with Utah one state over to the east. In my mind, though, they sometimes switch, with Utah to the left of Nevada. I do a similar thing with Madagascar, mentally flipping it across the continent to the west coast of Africa. Yet when I look at actual maps, with Nevada and Madagascar in their proper places, I’m not surprised by where they are. I guess I’m comfortable with either version, which means the misperceptions are likely to continue. And the same thing happens with the Middle East, and Southeast Asia – I can name most of the pieces, but the puzzle is a jumbled mess.
So do I know where Nevada and Madagascar are located, or don’t I? Could I explain where Sumatra is in relation to Borneo, or tell Oman from Yemen without the labels? It feels as though there’s more than one answer to those questions.
First of all, who am I? I’m supposed to be my brain. Obviously, when people refer to themselves they’re not talking about their left arm or their gall bladder, but rather that mass of nerve cells inside their skull. But I don’t see it that way. Not really. I think of my brain as being up there, this busy machine that blinks and beeps and buzzes continually, and is engaged in intricate and important work. Meanwhile, I’m down here somewhere, trying to stay out of the way and looking for something harmless to do.
But how can this be? My mind lives in my brain. When I use the word, I, it refers to the command center. I’m not just Mission Control – I’m the person who runs Mission Control. That’s what I always thought.
Yet, when I speak, words come out of my mouth that I don’t remember forming, or even thinking about. I’m typing this sentence as if taking dictation. It’s as though there’s another person in there, cranking out ideas, and I’m nothing more than a witness to the process.
Second, what does it even mean to know something? When a friend gets a new pair of eyeglasses, I notice immediately, but I couldn’t describe the old glasses to save my life. How is it that I can tell the difference – perceive a change – without being consciously aware of what was there before?
My brain apparently knows things that I don’t know. But how? Students in medical school spend years studying and trying to memorize many hundreds of anatomical functions that some other part of their brain mastered long ago. Here’s just one example:
The brain includes something called the amygdala, a mass of cells that deal with emotions, memory, and the secretion of hormones throughout the body. If I were given a written test on the specific functions of the amygdala, I would get a zero. If it were an open-book test, I might get a thirty-five. And yet, my amygdala is apparently working fine. I get appropriately angry at the snowplow operator when he buries my driveway six times in one day, and then I feel the inevitable twinge of remorse at the things I yell at him, even though he can’t hear a word I say and probably thinks I’m just waving hello. I remember John Glenn’s spaceflight in 1962, just as clearly as I recall cracking my knee against the corner of the desk this morning. And my hormones seem to be working all right, too, although I can’t tell you what they are or what they do. All I know about them is what I learned in high school biology: hormones are chemical messengers. I have no idea what that means. I picture them as tiny men on bicycles, wearing white caps and carrying slips of paper in their back pockets. This is probably not accurate, but it is, nevertheless, the image of hormones I will continue to hold for the rest of my life. The important thing is that my brain somehow knows what each chemical is for, and where to send them, and when. I’m grateful for that. But it’s a strange gratitude, a multiple-personality kind of feeling.
We’re all in this together, I suppose. My brain and I. And whoever else might be in here, too.
They say everyone’s brain has two halves: a right side and a left side. If only it were that simple.
This post features nine pieces of original cartoon art by Ron Leishman.
Experienced Tutors
August 28, 2012
Great post. I do enjoy your ‘ramblings’. Hope that’s the right word – not sure which side it came from. . .
LikeLike
bronxboy55
August 29, 2012
“Ramblings” is as good a word as any. One of the advantages of writing about the boggled mind is that I have a built-in excuse if the post wanders aimlessly in places.
LikeLike
Ashley
August 28, 2012
I think my brain is a jokester. My grades in school were always good; however, I recall very little of my studies. That being said, I could probably recite entire episodes of “The Brady Bunch” while singing all of Charlie Daniels’ “Uneasy Rider” by heart. I’m so ashamed.
Great thinkable blog as always:)
LikeLike
bronxboy55
August 29, 2012
I think our brains must be like our taste buds — we prefer the stuff that’s sweet and useless. (Which is probably an idea for another post, but I think you should write it, because I’m much too busy with more important things. Also, The Flintstones is on in a few minutes — it’s the one where Fred and Barney dress up as women to win a baking contest.)
LikeLike
charlywalker
August 28, 2012
I don’t even want to touch this subject…. God knows what’s in my brain. I try to empty it once in a while by writing a blog…but I’m combatting fifty shades of gray matter….
LikeLike
bronxboy55
August 29, 2012
You could never empty that brain of yours, CW. It’s like that bottomless cup of coffee at the diner. (Sounds messy, doesn’t it?)
LikeLike
charlywalker
August 29, 2012
Grounds for thought…
LikeLike
Lisa Esile
August 28, 2012
Oh yay – a discussion on ‘the mind! A topic dear to my heart, because I used to think I was my mind, but then I spent a year being mostly silent, just watching it, and now I don’t so much! I know. A year being silent is a whole other story.
I agree with your sentiment that the mind can do amazing things – and also that we are not our minds. Personally, I think of me as the bit beneath my mind. I call it ‘my heart’ – but whatever you call it – it’s the wise bit. The bit that gets random good ideas seemingly out of nowhere, and hunches about things. It’s also the bit that loves.
I don’t know if you’ve tried this before … but when you give yourself the space to just watch your mind and stop giving it things to do, – you get to see who you really are and where the mind fits in to your sense of self. It’s quite a ride – and you don’t even have to do it for a year – you can see things more clearly after even a day – or half a day. I highly recommend it!
So truthfully, I could sit here and write a whole blog post of my own in response to your post – but since this is your page and not mine, I think I’ll just say goodbye – and thank you once again for your beautifully written words and the gentle shout out to our very well meaning, super hardworking mind! Lisa.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
August 29, 2012
Lisa, I want to know more about your year of being silent. For a while I’ve been thinking about trying that — not speaking for a year, or blocking out all sound, or something. I think it would be an amazing experience to remove as much distraction as possible. Is that what you meant? I’m going to look around on your blog to see if you’ve written about it.
Thanks for the great comment, and please let me know if you decide to turn it into a full-blown post.
LikeLike
Lisa Esile
September 3, 2012
I haven’t written about it in too much depth other than bits in my book ‘7 Secrets Your Mind Doesn’t Want You to Know,’ and on my blog, newsletter etc … but I’ve been asked about it recently so maybe it’s time to tell all!
The only other thing I’d say is not to underestimate how useful just doing it for one day can be. No internet, TV, reading, talking, writing or, as my friend puts it ‘distracting yourself staring at nature’. You just sit there and kind of stare at the wall. It’s a blast – a challenging, and at times, life changing, blast!
Happy blog posting:)
LikeLike
holidaycornishcottages
August 28, 2012
Beautifully written and frighteningly true, I’m relieved I’m not the only one to feel as you do. I was beginning to wonder.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
August 29, 2012
Not only do we feel the same, but we both live in Cornwall. (Okay, they’re in different countries, but still.)
LikeLike
SmallHouseBigGarden
August 28, 2012
some of our thoughts/actions are premeditated…others are purely instinctual…
Although I’m unsure it was your intention, your post beautifully defines the term “human animal.”
( IMO, you should click “edit” and include an anthropology “tag” to assure the widest possible audience!)
LikeLike
bronxboy55
August 30, 2012
Thanks for the suggestion, Karen — I took your advice.
Glad you’re all right, and I hope the sky is blue today.
LikeLike
Ray Colon
August 28, 2012
I love science, but I was horrible at it in school. How can that be? I think that it’s impossible to contemplate the workings of the mind without ending up feeling befuddled. Nothing that complicated should work as well as it does. Fortunately, we don’t have to be able to grasp why or how the mind works in order to put our minds to good use.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
August 30, 2012
I’m with you, Ray. How could something so complex possibly work so well? We all worry during the occasional mental lapses (some of us more than others), but it’s actually shocking that they don’t happen more often.
LikeLike
Betty Londergan
August 28, 2012
I think I read somewhere that having a perception of yourself from “above” (as it were) is the sign of a really elevated consciousness. Either that or mental illness. But clearly … it must be the first since you are so very entertaining and enlightening to read!!! Do you love spelling the word amygdala as much as I do??
LikeLike
bronxboy55
August 30, 2012
Amygdala isn’t exactly an everyday word. In fact, I find it’s usually a struggle to work it into the conversation. But whenever I see it, I pronounce it two ways in my mind — with the stress on the second syllable, and then the third. Is there no end to the fun we can have inside our own heads?
LikeLike
amelie
August 28, 2012
Enjoyable reads here. As someone who works outdoors I can tell you that, as a beginner I thought a Biologist’s job was to memorize all the bird songs, all the plants, and recite that to people so I sounded smart. Now, years later I know that’s the least important part. Even genius botanists don’t know every plant.
Get familiar with one dance routine or style. Learn how hunting animals turned us into humans.
http://www.boston.com/bostonglobe/ideas/articles/2010/09/12/what_explains_the_ascendance_of_homo_sapiens_start_by_looking_at_our_pets/
And keep stapling your hand. It’s fun. 😉
LikeLike
bronxboy55
August 30, 2012
Thanks, Amelie. But what would you now say is the most important part of a biologist’s job?
LikeLike
amelie
August 30, 2012
Understanding the system, definetly! So instead of memorizing every flower, learn that buttercup (sometimes yellow) is a family of flowers that uses secondary metabolites to deter livestock. The stems can irritate your skin! And they grow well in yards where other plants can’t grow. Generaly, think about where you are. Is it a floodplain? A yard? Now you can find out exactly what to expect there and why.
More specific to your post, don’t worry about where Nevada is. It’s out west. You’re in an endoheric basin. That’s pretty cool. Madagascar, forget about it. All sort of cool things to learn without memorizing it on a map.
LikeLike
Charlotte
August 28, 2012
I am in my brain all the time, looking around for things, searching for stuff that I must have put ‘in a safe place’ and can’t find and finding rubbish that I distinctly remember getting rid of. See that’s one thing that bugs me, the waste paper bin never gets emptied rather unused items seem to find their way back up on the over crowded shelves again so it’s not easy to find room for my new stuff but as always ‘mostly bright ideas’ will end up in the FUN category. And that makes me wonder, why do we laugh when we find things funny and why do we find them funny. And if you wrote about that it would of course be hilarious. Very thankful for your brain that brightens up my day. 😀
LikeLike
bronxboy55
August 30, 2012
Your comment make me realize, again, how little control we have over our own minds. And if I ever begin to doubt that idea, all I need is to get a song stuck in my head. That sometimes lasts for days, which is a little scary.
Laughter is a strange thing, isn’t it?
Thanks for the kind words, Charlotte.
LikeLike
cat
August 28, 2012
Love your articles, Bronx Boy … always have and always will … many of your thoughts have propelled me forward, and made me curious to see what’s around the next bend in life … I thank you for that, If you like, try and subscribe to my blogger posts … I fiddled with the settings a bit, and other wordpress visitors are now able to get updates and can leave comments. To subscribe, look for the space beneathe my blogger profile … I would be honoured to have you stop by every now and then, B … Love, cat. (http://catsruledogsdroole.blogspot.com/)
LikeLike
bronxboy55
August 30, 2012
It’s been a while since I visited your blog, cat. I will correct that situation today. And thank you, as always, for your encouragement.
LikeLike
Carl D'Agostino
August 28, 2012
“My brain apparently knows things that I don’t know.” I understand. For most cartoon ideas I have no clue how they pop up. It is as though some one or something is feeding ideas to me and I am just the receptor. I suppose my brain has a mind of its own.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
August 30, 2012
Exactly, Carl. A mind of its own. I think we all must have multiple personalities.
LikeLike
Andrea Kelly
August 28, 2012
“How is it that I can tell the difference – perceive a change – without being consciously aware of what was there before?”
This happens to me all the time when I’m driving past remodeling/construction sites. “Wait a minute, that building definitely didn’t used to be there. But what in the world was there before?”
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 2, 2012
Andrea, I even notice when a house has been painted a different color — even a slightly different color. That must mean that my brain knows what color it was before, but I usually can’t visualize it. And I’ve had your construction-site experience, too, many times. I guess we’re wired to notice change.
LikeLike
Andrea Kelly
September 3, 2012
I’m glad it’s not just me! I was definitely feeling too young to be losing my mind. I think you’re right about change alerting us.
LikeLike
Elyse
August 28, 2012
Oh, wait. I got lost when you were talking about the alphabet. I can’t get past K without singing it and now the song is stuck in my head. Thanks Charles. Now, what were you saying?
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 2, 2012
Sorry, Elyse, but that’s another good example. I have a song stuck in my head almost every day. After a while, I make a conscious effort to think about something else — but the song keeps playing. Who’s doing that?
LikeLike
Stacie Chadwick
August 29, 2012
And all along I thought I was the only person who made things up. I’m glad I’m not alone, and better yet, in good company. =)
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 2, 2012
I think we have to make things up, Stacie. Otherwise, we’d have too much empty space in our brains.
LikeLike
Bruce
August 29, 2012
Very clever, very funny. The cartoons are a hand-in-hand crack up team member illustrating your points. I had a good laugh from the first cartoon and I love the Retired Dean too. Bruce
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 2, 2012
Thanks, Bruce. I’m glad you like the cartoons — they’re fun to do.
LikeLike
An Idealist Thinker
August 29, 2012
😀
I have nothing else to say!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 2, 2012
I always appreciate hearing from you, AIT, no matter what you say.
LikeLike
rangewriter
August 29, 2012
Charles is having an identity crisis! Seriously, as usual, you do pose some serious food for thought in your little caper through thought. You always manage to put your finger right in the middle of the little realities that tie us all together in this human jumble. The middle of the alphabet as mismatched socks…the states…well, they’re over there somewhere. East of Nebraska, I get very confused. There are just too many states over there and they’re so small. They seem to sort of jump around on the map and I can’t quite get them to settle down in my head….
But the I in me. Brain, heart, body? Where is it? What is it? All provocative stuff.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 4, 2012
I guess we all tend to be clearer about our immediate surroundings. For you, the eastern half of the country is out there somewhere, and a little hazy. For me, it’s the opposite. The middle, too — where the heck is Iowa?
LikeLike
rangewriter
September 7, 2012
Well, Iowa ain’t in Ideehoo. Nor is Ohio! It’s always amusing how many people get these 3 states mixed up.
I’m sure I would too, if I didn’t live in one and have good friends who haled from each of the other two.
LikeLike
writingfeemail
August 29, 2012
I’m right in the midst of a condition I refer to as ‘fuzzy brain syndrome’. I understand that it is common for women my ‘age’. The thing that I find even stranger, is that when it finally kicks back into gear, it has often downloaded an expired folder and I am mis-remembering things – i.e. the old security code instead of the new one. I am just hoping that I am more than this jumble of crossword puzzle clues that pop up when I am trying to recall the name of an author or where I put the bill that’s due. Yikes!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 4, 2012
If it makes you feel any better, Renee, when I’m writing a check, I sometimes catch myself about to put “1973” for the date, or some similarly ancient year. (I graduated high school in 1973.) I like that you describe it as downloading an expired folder. Maybe it’s like a bank statement from fifteen years ago, and our brains are saying, “What do you want me to do with this?”
LikeLike
Stephanie
August 30, 2012
Oooh!!! I love brain weirdness. And any time you try to dissect it, you get this weird paradox thing because you can’t really think subjectively about what your brain is doing because your brain would be the one doing the thinking. For all you know, it’s some kind of evil genius that’s making you think it’s thinking one thing so you (the body in which it is housed) can have plausible deniability for its actions since really it’s making plans for world domination.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 4, 2012
My brain was planning on world domination, Stephanie. But that was months ago, and my attention span isn’t what it once was. These days I’m focused more on cleaning up my office. Actually, that isn’t going so well either.
LikeLike
Stephanie
September 4, 2012
Nice.
LikeLike
marymtf
August 30, 2012
Charles, I think brains are organic type computers, only more efficient. That’s why you can’t for the life of you remember what your friend’s old glasses looked like. Brains toss out the irrelevant and store the good stuff somewhere in the subconscious for future reference. The only downside is that unlike the electronic kind you can’t turn brains off, even at night. And you can’t actually choose what to discard. That’s what I realise late at night when bits and pieces that I have been avoiding all day come back to haunt me.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 4, 2012
My brain seems to have stored a lot of irrelevant stuff, too, Mary. Some neuroscientists believe that our brains contain the memory of everything we’ve ever seen, heard, read, learned, and experienced. That’s a little scary.
LikeLike
Sandra Parsons
August 31, 2012
How about complete and utter absence of brain? I don’t wish to brag but ever since that little parasite has settled into my womb I have taken labels like forgetfulness and mush brain to whole new levels. And here is the weird thing: As a biologist I am still able to wonder what the evolutionary benefit of this so-called pregnancy dementia is. Obviously no-one’s at home at the moment to answer this question. Please call again when the breastfeeding dementia is over. Or thereabouts.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 4, 2012
Sandra, I’m sure there’s some evolutionary theory that aims to explain it. Probably something to do with eliminating distractions and focusing on the physical needs of the baby. Bill Cosby talked about how he and his wife used to be intellectuals — before they had children.
I hope you’re feeling well.
LikeLike
Sandra Parsons
September 6, 2012
I am great, thanks for asking. Finally able to catch my breath a little (figuratively speaking), so should be back on my blog soon.
LikeLike
marymtf
September 4, 2012
Charles, although it’s not relevant to this thread, and possibly not at all meaningful to you, I have to tell you how envious I am about where you live. I hadn’t realised until recently that you live on Prince Edward Island (thought it was the Bronx). I read all the ‘Anne’ books when I was a girl (LM Montgomery), and hoped to live there one day.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 5, 2012
Mary, I grew up in the Bronx in the late ’50s and early ’60s. Obviously, that world no longer exists, just as the Prince Edward Island of Lucy Maud’s day is gone forever (except in her writings). But it’s still a beautiful place. Have you visited PEI? I’d be happy to talk to you about it. Send me an email. (It’s all relevant, by the way — and all meaningful.)
mail@mostlybrightideas.com
LikeLike
O. Leonard
September 8, 2012
Okay, so it’s taken me a while to read this post. I have excuses…a damn job I’m lucky to have, and the summer is dwindling away and I had to go camping and boating on Labor Day weekend. But, I just had to comment about this thing you bring up about making stuff up. I do it all the time, and I’m pretty sure, for the very same reason. I don’t have all the facts up there in the appropriate filing cabinets, files, and folders, so, in an attempt to sound ultra-intelligent, I make stuff up. And it sounds pretty good. Most of the time people believe me, but then they invented the internet and Google search and smart phones that people are constantly holding in their hands to check my facts. In the 80s, I made my way through college and a degree making stuff up. I didn’t have time to do the research and it pretty much worked. My mantra was “If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, then baffle them with bull.” Essay tests were my favorites. I enjoyed your post as usual, and it was very satisfying to find out that I’m not the only one out there “filling in the gaps.”
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 10, 2012
I definitely fill in the gaps, O, but not in order to sound intelligent. I really think it’s a natural tendency we all have — maybe brains abhor a vacuum, too?
LikeLike
dearrosie
September 8, 2012
I’ve learned a lot from reading your blog. You taught us that the capital of Madagascar is Tananarive and now I’ve learned that there’s something called the amygdala living in my head… I can’t wait to go to the next cocktail party because I’m going to throw amygdala into the conversation. Somehow.
oh oh I just checked whether I’d spelled “Tananarive” correctly and guess what, the city’s now called “Antananarivo”.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 10, 2012
Actually, Rosie, Antananarivo is the only spelling I’ve ever known, but I’d still have to look it up every time. Not that it does me any good — I never get invited to cocktail parties.
LikeLike
icedteawithlemon
September 16, 2012
“… temporarily stuffing the empty space with fluffy material that I can later replace with the real thing.” Yep. Are you SURE we’re not somehow related, that at some point in the distant past your Italian ancestors “crossed paths” with my English or German ones? There are two things I know for certain about your brain: It never stops working, and it never ceases to amaze. Thanks for another great read.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 18, 2012
I would love to find out we’re related, Karen. In fact, why don’t we skip the research and just assume that we are?
LikeLike
icedteawithlemon
September 18, 2012
Skipping research and making assumptions? I love it! I’m going to assume you’re a long-lost cousin on my mother’s side (the slightly-less-twisted branch on my family tree), that her family from Germany and your family from Italy emigrated to the States centuries ago on the same boat (stowed away in the cargo hold, they did), struck up a friendship despite their linguistic and socioeconomic differences (gold-digging German peasantry, disgraced Italian nobility), and the rest, as they say, is history … (I left out the good parts–you’ll have to read the book.)
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 20, 2012
It sounds feasible to me. Except for the Italian nobility part.
LikeLike
Nectarfizz
September 22, 2012
You are so awesome it hurts my brain. In a very good way. Did I mention you are one of the best writers out there? Never stop.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
September 27, 2012
Cut it out, already, before I start to believe you.
LikeLike
Nectarfizz
September 28, 2012
Oh, then I better keep going. Cause you should believe silly. I have this thing about telling the truth as much as humanly possible. I only stretch the truth in storytelling and fish tales.
LikeLike
Ray Colon
September 28, 2012
Hi Charles,
I was doing some research on facial expressions for a post that I’m writing and there it was — “amygdala”. It may be a more commonly used word than we thought.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
October 1, 2012
That happens to me all the time, Ray. I see a word I think I’ve never seen before, and suddenly it appears three times in one week.
LikeLike