18. Cells And Multidimensional Circuitry
My good friend Dr. Jerry Jesseph lives his life by the philosophy "Peacefulness should be the place we begin rather than the place we try to achieve." I interpret this to mean that we should stem from the peaceful consciousness of our right mind and use the skills of our left mind to interact with the external world. He has also coined the phrase "dual interpenetrating awarenesses" to describe the relationship between the two halves of our brain. I think this is a profound and accurate perspective. Thanks to our corpus callosum, our two hemispheres are so intricately interwoven that we perceive ourselves as a single individual. However, through our understanding that we have two very distinct ways of being in the world, we can deliberately choose to have much more power over what's going on inside our brains than we ever imagined!
My left brain became competent again when it regained the ability to process information at fast rates of speed. Now that it is completely back online, it tends to reengage with life at what feels like a million miles an hour. Needless to say, the natural competition between my left hemisphere language centers and my right hemisphere's experience of inner peace has grounded me back in the normal human condition. A part of me is thrilled to be so functional again. A bigger part of me is terrified.
This experience of losing my left brain has opened my mind to look more positively at people who have experienced various forms of brain trauma. I often wonder, in the absence of language or the ability to communicate with others in a normal way, what insights or abilities has that person gained? I don't feel sorry for people who are different from me or perceived as not normal anymore. I realize that pity is not an appropriate response. Instead of feeling repelled by someone who is different, I am drawn toward them with kindness and curiosity. I am fascinated by their uniqueness and compelled to establish a meaningful connection, even if it is merely direct eye contact, a kind smile, or appropriate touch.
When I take responsibility for the circumstances of my life, I put myself in the driver's seat and own my power. In an attempt to maintain my sanity (peaceful heart) in a world that often feels like it spins dangerously fast, I continue to work very hard to maintain a healthy relationship between what is going on in my right and left minds. I love knowing that I am simultaneously (depending on which hemisphere you ask) as big as the universe and yet merely a heap of star dust.
Everyone's brain is different but let me share with you some of the simple things I have found to be true for mine. It seems that the more aware I am about how I am influencing the energies around me, the more say I have in what comes my way. To monitor how things are going in my life, I pay very close attention to how things are flowing, or not flowing in the world around me. Depending on what I am attracting, I take responsibility for how things are going and consciously make adjustments along the way. This does not mean that I am in complete control of everything that happens to me. However, I am in control of how I choose to think and feel about those things. Even negative events can be perceived as valuable life lessons, if I am willing to step to the right and experience the situation with compassion.
Now that my left mind's language centers and storyteller are back to functioning normally, I find my mind not only spins a wild tale but has a tendency to hook into negative patterns of thought. I have found that the first step to getting out of these reverberating loops of negative thought or emotion is to recognize when I am hooked into those loops. For some of us, paying attention to what our brain is saying to us comes naturally. Many of my college students, however, complain vehemently that it takes way too much mental effort for them to simply observe what their brain is telling them. Learning to listen to your brain from the position of a nonjudgmental witness may take some practice and patience, but once you master this awareness, you become free to step beyond the worrisome drama and trauma of your story-teller.
When I become conscious of what cognitive loops my brain is running, I then focus on how these loops feel physiologically inside my body. Do I feel alert? Are my eyes dilated? Is my breath deep or shallow? Do I feel tightness in my chest? Do I feel lightness in my head? Is my stomach upset? Do I feel antsy or anxious? Are my legs jiggling? Neuronal loops (circuits) of fear, anxiety or anger, can be triggered by all sorts of different stimulation. But once triggered, these different emotions produce a predictable physiological response that you can train yourself to consciously observe.
When my brain runs loops that feel harshly judgmental, counterproductive, or out of control, I wait 90 seconds for the emotional/physiological response to dissipate and then I speak to my brain as though it is a group of children. I say with sincerity, "I appreciate your ability to think thoughts and feel emotions, but I am really not interested in thinking these thoughts or feeling these emotions anymore. Please stop bringing this stuff up."
Essentially, I am consciously asking my brain to stop hooking into specific thought patterns. Different people do it differently of course. Some folks just use the phrase, "Cancel! Cancel!" or they exclaim to their brain, "Busy! I'm too busy!" Or they say "Enough, enough, enough already! Knock it off!"
Simply thinking these thoughts with my inner authentic voice, however, is often not enough for me to get the message across to my story-teller, who is invested in performing its normal function. I have found that when I attach an appropriate feeling to these phrases, and think them with genuine affect, my story-teller is more amenable to this type of communication. If I'm really having trouble getting my brain to listen, I add a kinesthetic component to my message like waggling my pointed finger in the air, or standing firm with my hands on my hips. A scolding mother is more effective when she says what she means with passion and communicates her message multidimensionally.
I whole-heartedly believe that 99.999 percent of the cells in my brain and body want me to be happy, healthy, and successful. A tiny portion of the story-teller, however, does not seem to be unconditionally attached to my joy, and is excellent at exploring thought patterns that have the potential to really derail my feeling of inner peace. This group of cells has been called many things; some of my favorites include the Peanut Gallery, the Board of Directors, and the Itty Bitty S#*?!y Committee. These are the cells in our verbal mind that are totally resourceful in their ability to run our loops of doom and gloom. These cells tap into our negative attributes of jealousy, fear, and rage. They thrive when they are whining, complaining, and sharing with everyone about how awful everything is.
In extreme situations of cellular disregard, I use my authentic voice to put my language center's Peanut Gallery on a strict time schedule. I give my story-teller full permission to whine rampantly between 9-9:30am and then again between 9-9:30pm. If it accidentally misses whine time, it is not allowed to reengage in that behavior until its next allotted appointment. My cells quickly get the message that I am serious about not hooking into those negative loops of thought - but only if I am persistent and determined enough to pay attention to what circuits are running in my brain.
I'm a devout believer that paying attention to our selftalk is vitally important for our mental health. In my opinion, making the decision that internal verbal abuse is not acceptable behavior, is the first step toward finding deep inner peace. It has been extremely empowering for me to realize that the negative story-teller portion of my brain is only about the size of a peanut! Just imagine how sweet life was when those cranky cells were silent. Recovering my left mind has meant that I have had to give voice to all of my cells again. However, I have learned that in order to protect my overall mental health, it is necessary for me to tend the garden of my mind and keep these cells in check. I have found that my story-teller simply needs a little disciplining directive from my conscious mind about what I want versus what I find unacceptable. Thanks to our open line of communication, my authentic self has much more say over what is going on with this particular group of cells; and I spend very little time hooked into unwanted or inappropriate thought patterns.
Having said that, however, I am often humored by the scheming antics of my story-teller in response to this type of directive. I have found that just like little children, these cells may challenge the authority of my authentic voice and test my conviction. Once asked to be silent, they tend to pause for a moment and then immediately reengage those forbidden loops. If I am not persistent with my desire to think about other things, and consciously initiate new circuits of thought, then those uninvited loops can generate new strength and begin monopolizing my mind again. To counter their activities, I keep a handy list of three things available for me to turn my consciousness toward when I am in a state of need: 1) I remember something I find fascinating that I would like to ponder more deeply, 2) I think about something that brings me terrific joy, or 3) I think about something I would like to do. When I am desperate to change my mind, I use such tools.
I have also found that when I am least expecting it -feeling either physically tired or emotionally vulnerable -those negative circuits have a tendency to raise their hurtful heads. The more aware I remain about what my brain is saying and how those thoughts feel inside my body, the more I own my power in choosing what I want to spend my time thinking about and how I want to feel. If I want to retain my inner peace, I must be willing to consistently and persistently tend the garden of my mind moment by moment, and be willing to make the decision a thousand times a day.
Our patterns of thought are grounded in rich multidimensional circuitry that we can learn to scrutinize. First, each thought pattern has a subject - something that I am cognitively thinking about. For example, let's say I am thinking about my little dog Nia, who spent a good share of her last eight years sitting on my lap, helping me write this book. Thinking about Nia is a specific circuit in my brain. Second, each thought pattern may or may not be accompanied by an adjoining emotional circuit of which I am cognizant. In the case of Nia, I generally experience great joy when I think of her because she was a marvelously loving creature. In my brain, the subject circuitry of Nia and the emotional circuitry of joy are intimately linked. Finally, these specific circuits of thought and emotion may also be linked with some of my more complex physiological circuitry, which upon stimulation would result in predictable behavior.
For example: when I think about Nia (thought circuitry) I experience the feeling of joy (emotional circuitry) and more often than not, I experience great excitement (physiological circuitry) and engage in puppy-like behavior (multidimensional circuitry). I instantly revert to a childlike voice and my eyes dilate. My joy becomes palpable, and I spontaneously waggle my body as if I were wagging my tail! Yet, in addition to this circuitry of excitement and animation, on other occasions I am also inclined to respond to the thought of Nia with consuming sadness - as I mourn the loss of my beloved four-legged friend. In the instant of a shifted thought, and its underlying emotional and physiological circuitry, my eyes might well up with tears. Caught in the loop of deep grief, my chest tightens, my breathing becomes shallow, and emotionally I feel depressed. Feeling weak in the knees, my energy wanes and I succumb to loops of darkness.
These passionate thoughts and feelings have the potential to jump instantly into my mind, but again, after their 90 seconds have come and gone, I have the power to consciously choose which emotional and physiological loops I want to hook into. I believe it is vital to our health that we pay very close attention to how much time we spend hooked into the circuitry of anger, or the depths of despair. Getting caught up in these emotionally charged loops for long periods of time can have devastating consequences on our physical and mental well-being because of the power they have over our emotional and physiological circuitry. However, with that said, it is equally important that we honor these emotions when they surge through us. When I am moved by my automatic circuitry, I thank my cells for their capacity to experience that emotion, and then I make the choice to return my thoughts to the present moment.
Finding the balance between observing our circuitry and engaging with our circuitry is essential for our healing. Although I celebrate my brain's ability to experience all of my emotions, I am cautious about how long I remain hooked into running any particular loop. The healthiest way I know how to move through an emotion effectively is to surrender completely to that emotion when its loop of physiology comes over me. I simply resign to the loop and let it run its course for 90 seconds. Just like children, emotions heal when they are heard and validated. Over time, the intensity and frequency of these circuits usually abate.
Really powerful thoughts are perceived as powerful because they simultaneously run multiple circuits of emotion and physiology. Thoughts that we would define as neutral are perceived as neutral because they are not stimulating complex circuitry. Paying attention to which array of circuits we are concurrently running provides us with tremendous insight into how our minds are fundamentally wired, and consequentially, how we can more effectively tend our garden.
In addition to spending a lot of time conversing with my brain cells, I'm having a big love-fest with the fifty trillion molecular geniuses making up my body. I am so grateful that they are alive and working together in perfect harmony that I implicitly trust them to bring me health. The first thing every morning and the last thing every night, I faithfully hug my pillow, wrap one hand in the other, and consciously thank my cells for another great day. I care enough to say it out loud. "Thank you girls. Thanks for another great day!," and I say it with an intense feeling of gratitude in my heart. I then implore my cells, Please, heal me, and I visualize my immune cells responding.
I unconditionally love my cells with an open heart and grateful mind. Spontaneously throughout the day, I acknowledge their existence and enthusiastically cheer them on. I am a wonderful living being capable of beaming my energy into the world, only because of them. When my bowels move, I cheer my cells for clearing that waste out of my body. When my urine flows, I admire the volume my bladder cells are capable of storing. When I'm having hunger pangs and can't get to food, I remind my cells that I have fuel (fat) stored on my hips. When I feel threatened, I thank my cells for their ability to fight, flee, or play dead.
At the same time, I listen to my body when it speaks to me. If I feel tired, I give my cells sleep. When I'm feeling sloth-like, I give my cells movement. When I'm in pain, I become quiet, coddle the wound, and consciously surrender into the pain, which helps it dissipate. Pain is the tool our cells use to communicate to our brain that there is trauma somewhere in our body. Our cells stimulate our pain receptors in order to get our brain to focus and pay attention. Once my brain acknowledges the existence of the pain, then it has served its purpose and either lightens up in intensity, or goes away.
From my perspective, the focused human mind is the most powerful instrument in the universe, and through the use of language, our left brain is capable of directing (or impeding) our physical healing and recovery. My verbal left ego mind functions as the head-cheerleader of my fifty trillion molecular geniuses, and when I periodically encourage my cells with You go girls!, I can't help but think this induces some sort of vibration within my body that promotes a healing environment. I'm a believer that when my cells are healthy and happy, I am healthy and happy.
None of this is to say that people with true mental illness have the capacity to choose completely what is going on inside their brains. However, I do believe that all symptoms of severe mental illness stem from a biological basis: which cells are communicating with which cells, with which chemicals and in what quantities of those chemicals. Brain research is on the cutting edge of understanding the neurocircuitry underlying mental illness, and as our knowledge grows, there will be a greater understanding about how we can help people more effectively monitor and tend to the health of their minds.
For treatment options, we have the capacity to influence our brain cells chemically through the use of medication, electrically via electrical stimulation, and cognitively through psychotherapy. In my opinion, the purpose of medical treatment is to increase our ability to share a common reality. I am in favor of people exploring what resources might help them more readily connect with others. Unfortunately, 60% of people diagnosed with schizophrenia do not recognize that they are ill. As a result, they do not seek or value treatment and often engage in selfmedication through the abuse of drugs or alcohol. Even the recreational use of these substances (by anyone) decreases our ability to share a common reality, and can thus be counterproductive to one's health.
Although some individuals advocate for the right to be insane, I am of the opinion that it is everyone's civil right to experience sanity and share in a common reality - whatever the cause of their brain illness or trauma.