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Brain-Based Transformational Solutions

Chronic Happiness
Is Not Good for You

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I recently came across a video of a mental health professional disparaging the brain’s default mode network (DMN). The loudest contingent of the DMN-bashing bandwagon tends to be the mindfulness folks, but it’s not an exclusive club.

This particular person cited a study I’m familiar with and have mentioned previously. Researchers contacted study participants at random times to ask them (1) what they were doing right then and (2) how happy they were.

The results supposedly revealed that people were happier when their attention was focused on what they were doing (accessing the brain’s attention network) than they were when their minds were wandering (accessing the brain’s default mode network).

My first question now would be who were these people? Specifically, I would want to know something about their personalities, given that we are all so dissimilar from each other. That is just one of many reasons why you cannot simply lump a group of people together, average their responses to some questions, and come to a sound conclusion about…anything.

Happiness was, in fact, the subject of the research, so I can’t fault the researchers for asking people to evaluate their level of happiness. But I question the ability of people in general to gauge their degree of happiness or of any other emotion. And I definitely can fault the assumption that happiness is a worthy topic of research.

The study in question was really focused on transient happiness—or acute happiness, if you will—which most people experience to a greater or lesser extent, anyway. By that, I mean we don’t all experience an equal amount or intensity of happiness. And who knows if what I label happy is the same emotion you label happy.

An inability to experience any happiness is definitely an indicator of a problem; the inability to be happy all the time—not so much.

The Pursuit of Happiness

A recent Facebook post advertising a Buddhist-oriented program asserted that anger is a “delusion” and it’s bad because it makes us unhappy. This is both simple-minded and wrong. The relentless pursuit of happiness is far more delusional and destructive than the experience of anger.

I have a handout with a list of 136 positive emotions (along with a similar list of negative emotions). Happy is but one of them. Yet somehow people have gotten the idea that it is the best or most important emotion. And somehow people have concluded that a steady state of happiness is both desirable and achievable. (This seems to be a peculiarly American take.)

One of the other emotions on the list is excited, which is far more appealing to me than happy but far less acceptable to pursue. For one thing, people who pursue excitement are often advised that it is just a poor substitute for happiness. Pursuing excitement is also associated with novelty-seeking and risk-taking.

In the Five Factor Model of Personality, it’s related to extraversion and openness to experience. (Full disclosure: those are the two factors I always score highest in, in that order.) Introverts and ambiverts tend to view extraverts with some degree of suspicion if not outright aversion, so the negative association to excitement is not surprising.

The short-term side-effects of excitement (acute excitement), however, include anticipation, alertness, increased energy, and motivation. Good stuff! But the side-effects of attempting to maintain a constant state of excitement—chronic excitement—are altogether different: impaired concentration, sleeplessness, restlessness, elevated blood pressure, increased adrenaline and noradrenaline, racing heart. The body would react to a constant state of excitement essentially the same as it would to chronic stress.

Furthermore, one would have to continually up the ante, so to speak (seek more novelty, take greater risks), to maintain the same level of excitement. Someone who was chronically excited would likely become a source of annoyance to friends, family, and coworkers.

Chronic happiness is no better for us than chronic excitement. Here’s why:

  1. Sometimes things are not going well, there is a real threat, and vigilance is required.

If someone offers you a pill that makes you happy 100 percent of the time, you should run fast in the other direction. It’s not good to feel happy in a dark alley at night. Happiness is a noun, so we think it’s something we can own. But happiness is a place to visit, not a place to live. It’s like the child’s idea that if you drive far and fast enough you can get to the horizon. No, the horizon’s not a place you get to. —Daniel Gilbert

  1. Pursuing happiness is likely to keep you stuck on the hedonic treadmill, where you’ll need to keep moving to acquire more and more of the things or experiences you think will bring you pleasure—to each of which you will adapt surprisingly quickly.
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  2. Happiness won’t increase your lifespan. In the final analysis, death comes in equal proportion to the happy and the sad. The result of research conducted by Oxford University with nearly 720,000 women is that “happiness and related measures of wellbeing do not appear to have any direct effect on mortality.”
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  3. If you’re simply here for the party, you should be aware your body processes “empty positive emotions” the same way it processes chronic adversity, which is by activating the pro-inflammatory response to prepare for bacterial threats. (Inflammation is associated with many major and minor diseases, including heart disease, various cancers, rheumatoid arthritis, etc.) A diet of too many empty positive emotions seems to be a lot like a diet of too many empty (sugar-, salt-, alcohol-, or fat-laden) calories.
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  4. Happiness may make you feel good in the moment, but pursuing it by avoiding negative thoughts and feelings and difficult or painful situations can stunt your personal development. That can lead to decreased resilience, greater susceptibility to stress, and reduced creativity and problem-solving abilities.
  1. You’re less likely to become depressed if you regularly experience a range of emotions instead of aiming exclusively for the positive ones.

Research indicates that if you pursue happiness, you may get it (just not all the time), but you’re not likely to feel satisfied. On the other hand, if you focus on meaning, instead, you’re extremely likely to feel satisfied and you may also get happiness as a bonus.

Games People Play

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Since I began rereading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, I’ve noticed coincidences of birds and of John Updike. (That’s two, and I’m barely into the book, so I’m starting a mental list.)

Birds haven’t featured prominently in my life or lexicon, other than their presence in the big tree outside my bedroom, which they’re attracted to in part due to my upstairs neighbors’ feeders. That and sometimes they remind me of The Producers.

John Updike features even less prominently, although that was not the case a few decades back. I devoured most of the Rabbit books, the Bech books, Marry Me, The Centaur, and lots of collected short stories (Too Far to Go, The Music School, etc.), among others.

Some of us have a tendency to perceive meaning in coincidences. As for me, I’ve been there, done that, and thankfully survived reading way too much Carl Jung during my formative years. Now I understand that the conscious part of my brain can only process about 40 bits of information at a time, and what it gets to chew on depends on what the unconscious part of my brain thinks might be useful—or will at least keep the conscious part occupied and hopefully out of trouble.

So the unconscious sifts through the 11 million bits it’s taking in at any given moment and … on the fly, so to speak … funnels a minuscule amount to consciousness, which operates as if it has a … bird’s eye view … of what is going on—and, more importantly, knows what it all means.

Of course, the meaning comes from us, not from what is outside of us. So things mean whatever we believe them to mean, based on our brain’s interpretations. We are, as David DiSalvo says in What Makes Your Brain Happy and Why You Should Do the Opposite, meaning makers.

Everything Is an Interpretation

Our experience of reality is a result of our interpretations, and the vast majority of those interpretations come from the unconscious, which is only concerned about meaning insofar as it affects the next action we’re about to take.

However, we treat all of our interpretations as if they are reality, which leads to a very static, literal, and concrete view of the world. And that worldview is affected much less than we might think by looking for and perceiving meaning in symbols, coincidences, objects, and occurrences. Because when we find meaning in those things, we’re operating as if the meaning is fixed within the objects or the occurrences: static, literal, concrete.

It is the unconscious that processes associatively rather than linearly. So it’s the unconscious that links bird with the notion of freedom or hope or anything else. But only if our mental model contains a belief that the appearance of birds means something other than what is apparent. If you’re tempted to consider that the unconscious has some specialized or secret info that it’s accessing, remember that this is the same unconscious that is addicted to pattern recognition (one result of which is stereotyping) and is riddled with cognitive biases (including our all-time favorite, confirmation bias) for the express purpose of being able to quickly jump to conclusions.

Delusional and Disempowering

Ray Grasse wrote a book titled The Waking Dream, which is subtitled Unlocking the Symbolic Language of Our Lives. He quotes Nikos Kazantzakis from Zorba the Greek:

Everything in this world has a hidden meaning. Men, animals, trees, stars, they are hieroglyphics. …When you see them, you do not understand them. You think they are really men, animals, trees, stars.

On the surface, this might be appealing. But there’s so much to unpack in those three sentences, so many assumptions underlying them. At the foundation is the belief that there are specific meanings one can ultimately deduce—again, meanings that are fixed and located within the things of the world. They are there for us to uncover or not.

I take the idea of unlocking the symbolic language of our lives to be another version of the game of finding our life-purpose cheese. There’s no there there.

As it is, life is empty and meaningless and it’s empty and meaningless that life is empty and meaningless. And, hey, we’re making meaning, anyway. We can’t do otherwise. It seems the height (or one height, anyway) of idiocy to fail to recognize that we are the source of the meaning we’re making. It’s somewhat delusional and seriously disempowering.

Neuroscientist Anil Seth reminds us that the color green exists neither in the object we’re viewing, nor in our brain, but in the interaction between the two. In other words, it’s not fixed; it’s an interpretation.

We’re in ongoing interaction with all of the world we inhabit. Both we and the world are in constant motion at all times. Reality is anything but static, literal, or concrete. We’re making it up as we go, and we’re never in the same place twice. A far more interesting series of question to ask is what is my brain bringing to my attention, what meaning am I making of it, and what does this say about who my brain thinks I am?

So what to do with two broken wrists, a bird in my bedroom and the sound of two doors closing? I am a writer, and I keep thinking there must be a connection to make, that these are pieces of a puzzle, that there is some way everything fits together. I’m damned if I know what it is. The more I squirrel around for a meaning, the more reluctant I am to consider the obvious. But the significance of a closing door is not lost on me, and I’ve never felt quite this mortal. It’s a beautiful word, “mortal,” rhyming with “portal,” which sounds optimistic. And really, who wants to live forever? How tedious life would become. Mortality makes everything matter, keeps life interesting. And that’s all I ask. —Abigail Thomas, memoirist

Born to Make Snap Judgments
—and Run with Them

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The brain is all about the action. It wants to know what’s going on with and around us so it can figure out what to do about it. Uncertainty only gets in the way of its imperative to always know and to always have an answer. Thus, the brain could be considered to be allergic to uncertainty and to the very idea of randomness.

Not only is the brain trying to figure out what’s going to happen next, it’s also trying to identify patterns to speed up and (hopefully) improve the process in the future.

In short, as far as the brain is concerned: randomness is bad; patterns are good.

Association

The part of the brain that is focused on what to do next operates via associative thinking rather than logical, linear thinking. Associative thinking (or learning) is based on finding patterns, making connections, and categorizing.  Associative thinking is fast and nonlinear, and we always have access to it.

Associative thinking takes place automatically. We can’t stop our brain from doing it, which is a good thing; if the brain wasn’t able to find patterns, make connections, and categorize things, our chances of survival would be diminished, and it would take us a lot longer to learn anything. Logical, linear thinking, which is used by the conscious part of the brain (System 2), is slow, effortful, and limited.

Since associative thinking puts a premium on speed rather than accuracy, however, it makes mistakes. If errors are not corrected, they can turn into beliefs or habits of thinking, just like habits of behavior, and become part of our mental model. The more frequently we encounter an apparent pattern or connection, the likelier we are to believe it is true and accurate. That’s also the case with classification and categorization.

Snap to It

Stereotype: fixed and oversimplified image or idea of a particular type of person or thing. (Oxford Dictionary)

We are born to judge others by how they look: our brains come hardwired with a specific face-processing area, and even shortly after birth, babies would rather look at a human face than anything else. Within their first year, they become more discerning, and are more likely to crawl towards friendly looking faces than those who look a bit shifty. By the time we reach adulthood, we are snap-judgement specialists, jumping to conclusions about a person’s character and status after seeing their face for just a tenth of a second. And we shun considered assessments of others in favour of simple shortcuts—for example, we judge a baby-faced individual as more trustworthy, and associate a chiselled jaw with dominance. —Kate Douglas, New Scientist

Other research indicates that these conclusions we begin jumping to in infancy can develop into stereotypes that then influence future interpretations as well as behavior. It’s highly likely that the brain generates all kinds of stereotypes as mental shortcuts to identify things, people, situations, etc.

Categorization

Categorization: the act of sorting and organizing things according to group, class, or, as you might expect, category. (vocabulary.com)

Categorizing is an automatic System 1 (unconscious) process. That means it’s easy; eventually tracks laid down in the brain carry us along effortlessly. We rarely question our perceptions because confirmation bias makes them feel right. While it is relatively easy—and requires no conscious attention—to lay down these tracks, the same cannot be said for changing them.

Recognizing the differences between things (distinguishing), on the other hand, is a System 2 (conscious) process that requires intention, attention, and effort. Those, in turn, require logical, linear thinking. Making distinctions can be difficult and often generates cognitive dissonance, which is uncomfortable.

Pattern Detection

Pattern recognition/detection: the imposition of identity on input data, such as speech, images, or a stream of text, by the recognition and delineation of patterns it contains and their relationships. (Brittanica, pattern recognition in computer science)

Patternicity: the tendency to find meaningful patterns in meaningless noise. (Michael Shermer)

We use our brain’s pattern-detection processes all the time: when driving a motor vehicle, listening to music, observing someone’s behavior, following a story, running experiments, playing games or sports, etc. The brain’s attempts to identify a pattern or determine if a pattern is present generate activity in the ventromedial prefrontal cortex, which is part of the reward system. That means pattern-detection is reinforced by the brain.

It’s not a stretch to imagine that most if not all of perception is a result of pattern-detection. And given that pattern-detection operates unconsciously, in the part of the brain that values speed over accuracy, it’s also not a stretch to recognize how likely it is to be fallible.

According to Jamie Hale, in PsychCentral:

Our pattern-detecting ability serves us well in many instances, but it also can lead to seeing something when there is nothing there. In the words of Rudolf Flesch:

“Instead of the black and-white, single-track, everyone-knows-that-this-is-due-to-that approach, get used to the idea that this is a world of multiple causes, imperfect correlations, and sheer, unpredictable chance. It is true that the scientists, with their statistics and their probabilities, have made a stab at the harnessing of chance. But they know very well that certainty is unattainable. A high degree of probability is the best we can ever get.”

The brain lulls us into believing that we have a good grasp of what’s happening, that certainty is attainable, and that our snap judgments are accurate perceptions of reality. However, things are not as they seem.

Decoding Emotions

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There are two distinct perspectives on the nature of emotions. One view is that they are universal—and universally recognizable—responses that are automatically triggered by events and circumstances. The other view is that they are constructed by each of us moment-to-moment, based on our particular combination of physiology, temperament, and experience.

Charles Darwin’s The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals, published in 1872, wasn’t the first book to attempt to codify facial expressions, but it still serves as inspiration for what has been referred to by Lisa Feldman Barrett as the classical view of emotion.

[H]e claimed that emotions and their expressions were an ancient part of universal human nature. All people, everywhere in the world are said to exhibit and recognize facial expressions of emotions without any training whatsoever.

This idea was further advanced in the 1960s and 70s, by psychologist Paul Ekman and others, and remains a widely held view. It’s why many people believe there are six basic emotions—fear, anger, joy, sadness, disgust, and surprise—that are recognized by people across the globe. And it’s why the use of psychological tests for recognizing emotions from facial photographs is still quite common.

Furthermore the ability to identify emotions from facial expressions is a standard test of empathy, with implications in diagnosing various mental health conditions. So it’s relatively safe to say that a belief in empathy is based in the classical view of emotions.

But as Feldman Barrett points out:

Hundreds of experiments have shown that people worldwide can match emotion words to so-called expressions of emotion, posed by actors who aren’t actually feeling those emotions. However, those expressions can’t be consistently and specifically detected by objective measures of facial muscle movements when people are actually feeling emotion.

So if most (if not all) of the people who have been photographed for emotion detection tests are…emoting (i.e., acting), what do these tests actually reveal? At best, they appear to reveal some consensus agreement as to what those facial expressions are supposed to represent—stereotypes of emotions, if you will.

A Little Context, Please

Even if the photographs were not posed, focusing exclusively on faces excludes all the relevant contextual detail that the brain uses to form impressions and make interpretations.

Other things, including body movement, personality, tone of voice and changes in skin tone have important roles in how we perceive and display emotion. —Douglas Heaven, Nature, 2/26/20

Surrounding environmental context is even more critical. In a PNAS paper published on 3/21/19, Aleix Martinez offers the following images to support the importance of contextual information.

When asked to identify the emotions shown in these images, most people agree that the left image expresses sadness, while the right image is a clear display of anger. If asked whether these expressions communicate positive or negative valence, most people agree that both correspond to a negative expression. The problem with these assessments is that context is not observable, which may lead to incorrect interpretations. Images courtesy of (Left) Imgflip and (Right) Getty Images/Michael Steele.

Adding context to the facial expressions previously seen in [the previous figure] radically changes our interpretation of the emotion being experienced by a person. (A and B) In these two images, most observers agree that the people shown are experiencing a joyful event (i.e., positive valence). (C and D) When the face and body are blurred out, inference of valence and arousal is still possible. Images courtesy of (Upper Left, Lower Left, and Lower Right) Imgflip and (Upper Right) Getty Images/Michael Steele.

Martinez concludes that:

[w]e still do not know which brain regions of interest (ROIs) are involved in the recognition of affective context and how these communicate with already known areas. ROIs for the recognition of facial muscle articulations and biological motion as well as affective variables have been identified. It is logical to assume that ROIs involved in visual analysis of scenes, objects, and bodies are part of the visual interpretation of context. But does the brain employ other mechanisms to perform this inference? And, how do all these ROIs interact with one another to create the conscious affective percept we all experience?

How Many Words Is a Picture Worth?

Contextual information can not only lead to more accurate interpretations, it can also turn the tables on emotion recognition altogether. In writing about rethinking emotional intelligence a few years ago, I included this excerpt from The Storytelling Animal by Jonathan Gottschall:

In the early twentieth century, the Russian filmmaker Lev Kuleshov produced a film of unnarrated images: a corpse in a coffin, a lovely young woman, and a bowl of soup. In between these images, Kuleshov squeezed shots of an actor’s face. The audience noted that when the soup was shown, the actor emoted hunger. When the corpse was shown, he looked sad. When the lovely young woman appeared, the actor’s face was transformed by lust.

In fact the actor wasn’t emoting at all. After every shot, Kuleshov had inserted exactly the same footage of an actor staring impassively into the camera.

We often see what we expect to see rather than what’s actually there. Expectations play an enormous role in the interpretations made by the brain. So does our experience, as well as the language we speak and the range of our emotional vocabulary.

This applies to the interpretation of our own emotions as well as the emotions of others. When it comes to interpreting our own emotions, we don’t usually go about it by looking at ourselves in a mirror. We’re more likely to focus on internal cues first. But no matter how strong those cues are, they do require interpretation. For example, excitement and anxiety are what are called high-arousal states that have similar neurological and physiological symptoms, such as increased heart-rate, restlessness, rapid breathing, difficulty concentrating, and nervousness or tension. So context (the circumstances surrounding a particular high-arousal state) plays a role in our process of interpretation. Nevertheless, some of us are more inclined in general to interpret this set of sensations as anxiety and some of us are more inclined to interpret it as excitement.

Our personal interpretive tendencies are very likely to influence our interpretations of the emotions others are experiencing. Given what we understand about how the brain works, it’s hard to imagine how they wouldn’t.

Take Away

The idea that emotions are constitutive (constructed) has gained more and more ground as neuroscience research expands our understanding of how we function. There are so many things we take for granted, or at face value, without questioning them. The idea that there are six basic emotions that are universally recognized is an intuitive get. But there was actually substantial disagreement with the classical view of emotion prior to the 1960s; it just got swept under the rug. It wasn’t the first scientific concept that got swept aside and won’t be the last.

Emotions are real just as a sense of self is real, but neither an emotion nor a sense of self is a thing. Instead both are processes, continually in flux, a result of our interpretation—and open to our interpretation.

The Best Mindset for a Fresh Start

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The so-called Fresh Start Effect is based on the idea that we use temporal landmarks—dates that hold significance for us—as motivators for behavior change.* Such temporal landmarks run the gamut from the beginning of a week, a month, or a school semester to the beginning of a new year or a birthday. The brain does appear to take note of temporal landmarks; it’s easier to recall your last birthday than another random day of the month.

As temporal landmarks go, the beginning of a new year is famous for generating resolutions for self-improvement. The fact that most of these resolutions will probably fall by the wayside doesn’t deter us. Nor should it. We can take advantage of the fact that the brain is more open to change at some times than at others, as long as we approach the process from the right mindset.

Wrong Way: Production Mindset

A majority of New Year’s resolutions tend to consist of habits we want to start or stop: things we believe we ought to do or not do—or do more or less of—because they’re good for us. They’re a reflection of what I call the production mindset, which is focused on:

  • Being right
  • Being good
  • Relieving psychological tension
  • Interpreting feedback as judgment
  • Determining objectives
  • Following rules
  • Performing

It’s no accident that being resolute is also an aspect of production mindset. This is the mindset of whipping oneself into shape. It’s easy and automatic to operate from this mindset, but it’s a mindset that is not at all conducive to change. Production mindset is a stern taskmistress.

Right Way: Experiment Mindset

Experiment mindset operates from both a more committed and a more detached perspective. The commitment is to a desired outcome—and to mastering the change process—rather than to achieving a specific objective. The detachment allows for curiosity and learning. Characteristics of this mindset include:

  • Willingness to be wrong
  • Focusing on getting better
  • Developing creative tension
  • Evaluating feedback to adjust course
  • Identifying desired outcomes
  • Using guidelines
  • Discovering

In place of resoluteness, experiment mindset leads to resilience, which is a great asset on the rocky road to behavior change.

Running Experiments

Instead of creating a list of habits to start or change, evidence suggests we’ll get better results by running an experiment or two instead. And less really is more in this case. We’ll get better short- and long-term benefits when we focus on a single habit and successfully start or change it. We can build on that success with another habit. When we give ourselves too many things to work on at the same time—all of which require limited System 2 (conscious) resources—we create multiple opportunities to fail.

Here are some guidelines for running experiments.

  1. Identify your desired outcome (the change you want to create; the experience you want to have).
  2. Determine a minimum of three different objectives that could possibly get you your desired outcome.
  3. Consider how you would structure or conduct an experiment to test each one.
  4. Select one.
  5. Set up the parameters:
    >  What will you test?
    >  What data will you track and how will you record or track it?
    >  How and how often will you evaluate feedback?
    >  What is the timeframe (beginning and ending dates)?
    >  How will you measure success or failure?
    >  How will you reward yourself for following through
  6. Run the experiment.
  7. If you have comparative data available, check it against the results of your experiment.
  8. Decide on your next course of action:
    >  Continue the experiment.
    >  Implement the new behavior.
    >  Run a different experiment.

I find the IAP (Intention/Attention/Perseverance) process useful when conducting experiments. A combination of the eight steps above and the four IAP steps below has led to significantly greater success than I’ve ever had in maintaining a strength training program—and that’s saying a lot considering my numerous attempts and multiple heart conditions.

  1. Intention: Describe in writing exactly what you intend to do, as well as when, where, and how you intend to do it. Be specific.
  2. Attention: Identify how you will keep your attention focused on your intention (post-it notes, phone reminders, calendar notations, etc.).
  3. Perseverance: Decide what you will do when things don’t go according to plan (regardless of the reason). What step(s) will you take to get back on track?
  4. Reward: Identify how you will reward yourself when you follow through. Make it something you know you will enjoy—and then follow through with giving yourself the reward!

A note on rewards: Rewarding yourself when you follow through with an intention activates memory and learning circuits in the brain, which makes it more likely you will follow through the next time. Experiment with rewards, too, to discover what works for you.

Remember that you can use any temporal landmark as a boost to start a new habit or change an existing one. I started my strength training experiment on a random Monday in April 36 weeks ago. I set up a series of 10 three-week experiments, all of which I completed, and I’m still going strong.

*The idea was espoused by Katy Milkman, a behavioral economist, and presented in a 2014 article co-authored by Dai Hengchen and Jason Riis.

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joycelyn@farthertogo.com
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