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N Is for Narration

February 1, 2017 by Joycelyn Campbell Leave a Comment

The unconscious part of your brain processes far more data, moment-to-moment, than the conscious part of your brain is aware of. Since you’re missing more than you’re consciously taking in, how can you have the seamless experience of reality you have? You should be a lot more confused than you actually are.

The reason you aren’t more confused is that you have an inner narrator or inner interpreter who makes sense of your experiences and observations, decides which are important and what they mean, and weaves everything together into a unified whole. The inner narrator gives your life a sense of continuity, the result of which is that your experiences feel sequential and (usually) logical rather than segmented and random.

If you tune in to your inner narrator, you may be able to catch it in the act of putting the pieces together for you, but that takes a little practice.

Filling in the Blanks

Michael Gazzaniga, one of the founders of cognitive neuroscience, discovered “the left-brain narrating system,” which he dubbed “the interpreter” in the late 70s when he and Joseph LeDoux were conducting research with split-brain patients (individuals whose corpus callosum had been severed in an attempt to alleviate epilepsy symptoms).

In the most well-known experiment, Gazzaniga and LeDoux flashed pictures in front of a patient, one to the right hemisphere (which is nonverbal) and another to the left hemisphere (which controls language). The patient was then shown several additional pictures—to both hemispheres—and asked to select one that went with the first (right-hemisphere) picture and another that went with the second (left-hemisphere) picture. The patient was able to point to appropriate matches for each of the two pictures and to explain the relationship between the two left-hemisphere pictures. That result was expected.

The surprise was that he also had a ready explanation for why he had chosen the right-hemisphere picture. Given that his left-hemisphere had not seen the first right-hemisphere picture—and there was no communication between the two hemispheres of the subject’s brain—he should have been confused about why he chose that picture. Not only wasn’t he confused, he was completely confident in his answer.

As it turns out, when faced with incomplete information, the left brain quite convincingly fills in the blanks. Essentially it spins a story by making things up that you believe to be true.

The left-brain interpreter, Gazzaniga says, is what everyone uses to seek explanations for events, triage the barrage of incoming information and construct narratives that help to make sense of the world.

Your inner narrator views your inner and outer world through the lens of your mental model of the world, which largely determines what you pay attention to, how you interpret events, and the meaning you assign to them. This inner narration doesn’t just weave your world together; it also keeps change at bay by reinforcing the status quo (what is normal for you). If you want to alter your behavior—change the status quo—you have to loosen the grip on your belief in the story you currently have about yourself. This is hard to do because, like everyone else, you probably believe most, if not all, of what your inner narrator tells you. It seems as though it’s just reporting on reality, not creating it.

The Story of You

We spend our lives crafting stories that make us the noble—if flawed—protagonists of first-person dramas. A life story is a “personal myth” about who we are deep down—where we come from, how we got this way, and what it all means. Our life stories are who we are. They are our identity. A life story is not, however, an objective account. A life story is a carefully shaped narrative that is replete with strategic forgetting and skillfully spun meaning. —Jonathan Gottschall, The Storytelling Animal

Your inner narrator helps sustain the illusion that there’s a single you—a single self that’s at the center, having all these thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Not so, says neuropsychologist Paul Broks. He says neuroscience shows there is no center in the brain where things do all come together.

Julian Baggini, author of The Ego Trick, expands on the idea:

When you look at the brain, and you look at how the brain makes possible a sense of self, you find that there isn’t a central control spot in the brain. There is no kind of center where everything happens. There are lots of different processes in the brain, all of which operate, in a way, quite independently. But it’s because of the way that they all relate that we get this sense of self.

This is what Roger Sperry, Michael Gazzaniga, Joseph LeDoux, and many other researchers have discovered. The difference in function between the left-brain and right-brain is only one division of labor.

In fact, the brain contains a swarm of specialized modules, each performing a special skill—calculating a distance, parsing a voice tone—and all of them running at the same time, communicating in widely distributed networks, often across hemispheres….The brain sustains a sense of unity…amid a cacophony of competing voices, the neural equivalent of open outcry at the Chicago Board of Trade. —Benedict Carey, New York Times

If you believe you have a fixed self, a permanent essence, which is always the same, throughout your life, no matter what, as Julian Baggini says, then you’re kind of trapped. If you want to change something about the way you think or the way you respond to things, you have to believe that the way you think and the way you respond can be changed. Of course, you can’t change everything about yourself, but the more you believe in a fixed, essential self, the more difficult it will be for you to make significant positive attitude or behavior changes to that self.


Note: The image is Emma Thompson as author Karen Eiffel in the movie Stranger than Fiction, in which she narrates the life of her character, Harold Crick, played by Will Ferrell. It’s one of my favorite movies.


Part of the series A-Z: An Alphabet of Change.

Filed Under: Alphabet of Change, Consciousness, Meaning, Unconscious Tagged With: Brain, Inner Narrator, Left-Brain, Mental Model, Mind, Right-Brain

The Other Problem with
Affective Forecasting

July 27, 2016 by Joycelyn Campbell Leave a Comment

affective forecasting

The year it was published, I purchased a copy of the Best American Non-Required Reading 2004, which included an article written by Jon Gertner for the New York Times titled The Futile Pursuit of Happiness. The article reviewed the work of several psychologists whose work I eventually became familiar with—including Daniel Gilbert, Timothy Wilson, and Daniel Kahneman—in the relatively new field of affective forecasting. I was intrigued enough to copy the article, reread it, and highlight a good portion. From the vantage point of now, I see it was one of the small handful of bread crumbs along the trail to creating Farther to Go!

But I filed the article away, and in the interim between then and 2012, seem to have forgotten about it. Daniel Gilbert’s book Stumbling on Happiness was already a best seller before I came across a copy of it, and I don’t recall connecting the dots between it and the article I’d been so interested in. I’ve recommended the book to numerous people and refer to it in some of my courses in spite of it’s focus on happiness, not because of it.

Don’t Worry; Be Happy

That’s the other problem with affective forecasting (read my previous post, Miswanting). The emphasis is on happiness rather than on satisfaction and meaning. Happiness is an ephemeral emotional state. We’re simply not always going to be happy—and trying to be isn’t even a worthwhile goal.

We are living in an era in which the Happiness Industry invades and permeates society and every unpleasant aspect of life is frowned upon, and dismissed as an unnecessary social ill. Rather than learning to cope with or contemplate certain aspects of life—fear, sadness, loneliness and boredom—we avoid them, gradually removing our ability to tolerate even the most mundane of the difficult aspects of life. —Siobhan Lyons, Philosophy Now

The things that make us happy are not necessarily the things we find satisfying or meaningful. That’s partly because happiness is a function of the unconscious part of the brain (System 1), which is focused on immediate gratification, while satisfaction and meaning are functions of the conscious part (System 2), which is focused on long-term goals and plans. The pursuit of happiness keeps us fixated on ourselves and on gratifying our immediate wants and needs.

Furthermore, because happiness is an ephemeral and transient emotional state, what makes us happy at one point in time isn’t necessarily going to make us happy at another. But because of the way we’re wired, it’s very difficult to recognize and account for that in the moment.

We’re more different from ourselves in different states than we are from another person. —George Loewenstein, Educator and Economist

And maybe a certain amount of something makes us happy, but too much of it makes us sick—literally or figuratively. Too much craft beer, sex, alone time, hanging out with a best friend, tiramisu, dancing, cooking, listening to music, laughing—whatever it is that makes us happy has at least the potential to also make us very unhappy.

To be fair to Daniel Gilbert, he isn’t advocating the relentless pursuit of happiness, either:

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, quoted in The Science of Happiness, Harvard Magazine

However, there is a considerable amount of discussion and debate about how we should approach the subject of happiness. This may be the most useful perspective:

The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise. It is not that we seize them, but that they seize us. —Ashley Montagu, Anthropoligist

Satisfying and Meaningful vs. Happy

One way to bypass the errors we make in affective forecasting is to focus on creating satisfying and meaningful lives rather than happy ones by identifying what we really want. Higher order wants or, as I call them, Big Picture Wants, are abstract but they are neither transient nor ephemeral.

Research indicates that if you aim for satisfying and meaningful, you may get happiness as a byproduct. But if you aim for happiness, you will not get satisfaction and meaning as byproducts. And the people who pursue satisfaction and meaning, even when the going gets tough, report higher overall levels of satisfaction with their lives. Because what is meaningful is less transitory, we have a better chance of achieving and sustaining a meaningful life—and therefore a satisfying one—than we have of achieving and maintaining a happy life.

When we’re oriented to something bigger than we are, and bigger than our immediate wants and needs, we’re less susceptible to the pull of immediate gratification. When we give our big brain (consciousness, System 2) something worthwhile to focus on, we can achieve goals or create things that actually make a difference to ourselves and to others.

Our obsession with happiness may reflect a sense that our lives lack meaning, but pursuing happiness is not the solution. George Loewenstein recommends we invest our resources in the things that will make us happy. I think we’ll be much better off if instead we invest our resources in what makes our lives satisfying and meaningful. That path may be risky and not always easy or pleasurable, but…

If you want a guarantee, buy a toaster. –Clint Eastwood

Filed Under: Beliefs, Choice, Finding What You Want, Happiness, Living, Making Different Choices, Meaning Tagged With: Affective Forecasting, Happiness, Meaning, Meaningful Life, Satisfaction

On Radical Change

November 20, 2015 by Joycelyn Campbell Leave a Comment

60s

To a great extent, the term radical was co-opted by the 60s. That decade represents many of my formative years, so the word has a particular connotation for me it may or may not have for you. In the 60s, being radical meant being politically extreme. It meant hippies, student activists, anarchy; civil rights, feminism, black power; free love, free speech, free school; the Black Panthers, the Weather Underground, the Yippies; sit-ins, demands, protests, the burning of draft cards and bras.

It meant upheaval and disruption on a massive scale—an attempt to change political, economic, and social structures at their fundamental levels. In fact one definition of a radical is: one who advocates fundamental or revolutionary changes in current practices, conditions, or institutions.

With or without the subtext of the 60s, radical is often used interchangeably with extreme. It’s interesting that we currently refer to radical Islam and Muslim extremists but Christian fundamentalists when we mean essentially the same thing in both cases. The word originates from the Latin radicalis, “of, or having, roots.” So radical refers to something fundamental, while radical change refers to change at a fundamental level, i.e., extreme change.

Radical activists in the 60s wanted extreme change, and they wanted it now. Other radical or extremist groups have wanted the same thing. There are all kinds of disruptive events and activities that may lead to social upheaval, just as there are all kinds of disruptive events and activities that may lead to personal upheaval. But upheaval isn’t synonymous with radical change. If you have any doubt about that, consider the uneven record of successes of the 60s activists.

If you want to make fundamental changes—socially or personally—you have to change mental models. And there is no short-cut for doing that. Changing mental models requires commitment, repetition, and persistence. It takes time.

People are looking for short-cuts, though, which is one of the things that’s so appealing about movements, charismatic speakers, advertising, political jingoism, and quick-fix self-help concepts. We’re exposed to these things every day, just as we’re exposed every day to things that could make us sick. Someone with a weak immune system will be more susceptible to germs and viruses than someone with a strong immune system. In the same way, if we don’t have a sense of who we are fundamentally and what we’re up to in life, we’re more susceptible to whatever comes along that promises to help us figure it out—and get it—pronto!

So I assert that taking the time to identify what we really want in our lives is perhaps the most radical act we can take. It’s radical because it can change us fundamentally by allowing us to determine and create consistently meaningful and satisfying lives on our own terms. If we’re living meaningful and satisfying lives, whether the going is easy or rough, we’re much less susceptible to snake-oil salesmen, politicians, or movements of any sort because we aren’t looking for meaning or salvation out there.

In order to effect radical change in the world, we need to take radical action on our own behalf. Being clear about what we want infuses us with a sense of purpose. And that sense of purpose is what keeps us focused on getting and maintaining the things that truly matter instead of wasting time on ineffective, trivial, destructive, or self-destructive pursuits. As members of the human race, each of us contributes, in large ways or small, to what doesn’t work in the world simply because of the way our brains are wired. However, it’s entirely possible to decrease our contribution to what doesn’t work and increase our contribution to what does work.

It’s entirely possible to be a catalyst for radical change in our own lives and in the lives of others. Identifying what we want and going after it is the most effective way to make a difference—on a fundamental level—not just in our own lives, but in the wider world, as well.

Filed Under: Finding What You Want, Living, Meaning, Purpose Tagged With: 1960s, Activism, Change, Radicalism

Are You Living the Good Life?

August 28, 2015 by Joycelyn Campbell Leave a Comment

goodlife2

Does living “the good life” mean living a happy life? Or does it mean living a meaningful life? Although happiness and meaning correlate positively, as the researchers put it—or at least overlap to some extent—they are not the same thing and in some cases they represent two entirely different paths.

The concept of “the good life” is often credited to Aristotle, although there was considerable debate among the Greeks as to exactly what constituted a good life.

Aristotle thought the good life included virtue and excellence of character, along with health, wealth, and beauty. His view fits somewhere in between the Stoics, who believed virtue was sufficient, and Epicurus, who believed the good life was strictly one of pleasure.

The Greeks had a word for happiness, which they considered to be an important element of the good life. Eudaemonia has several possible translations, including “human flourishing” or “good spirit.” But what does that mean?

For most people today, the concept of the good life has come to represent the life one wants to, or would prefer to, live. For some, that’s a life of pleasure, but not for all. Whatever its components, the good life is something to strive for, wish for, or hope to achieve. Interestingly, however, no matter how we define it, or how well off we are, the good life is persistently difficult to attain.

When people are dissatisfied with their lives, their dissatisfaction seems to be the starting point for identifying what a good life would look like and then going after it. But how you go about pursuing the good life depends on what you think the solution to your dissatisfaction might be: happiness or meaningfulness.

The Pursuit of Happiness vs. the Pursuit of Meaningfulness

Quite a bit of research has been conducted to determine how people who pursue happiness actually feel and how people who pursue meaningfulness actually feel. The results of the research are pretty clear, but there are a few problems with the concept.

One problem is with the way the issue tends to be phrased. The pursuit of happiness vs. the pursuit of meaning doesn’t accurately describe what we’re talking about. Meaningfulness doesn’t reside “out there,” so it isn’t something we can go after. We determine the meaning of things. Things (or people or situations or activities) mean something to us because we have assigned meaning to them. And the meaning we assign to them is very specific and very personal. A thing can mean one thing to one person and something else to another person. In addition, the meaning we assign to things, people, situations, or activities can change. If meaning resided within the thing, the meaning of the thing wouldn’t change.

As David DiSalvo says, we are meaning-makers. We can focus our lives on what we determine is meaningful to us, but we can’t go looking for meaning out there and expect to find anything.

Another problem is that happiness vs. meaningfulness represents an apples and oranges kind of comparison. Happiness is a feeling, and therefore transient. It’s the nature of feelings to come and go. Happiness bubbles up in us, often unexpectedly, and the unexpectedness is part of its charm or desirability. If we were happy all the time—which is impossible, anyway—we would miss out on that aspect of it. And since happiness is a feeling—an experience—it is subjective. It’s not easy to describe our personal experience of happiness to someone else.

“When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.” —Humpty Dumpty

A third problem results from this ephemeral nature of happiness: how do you define it? Some people have decided that happiness means what they choose it to mean:

In her 2007 book The How of Happiness, positive psychology researcher Sonja Lyubomirsky [describes] happiness as “the experience of joy, contentment, or positive well-being, combined with a sense that one’s life is good, meaningful, and worthwhile.” —Greater Good Science Center website

The Greater Good Science Center is well-meaning, but the notion that you can’t experience happiness unless you also believe your life is good, meaningful, and worthwhile—whatever that means—is absurd. Ask a toddler.

Viktor Frankl (Man’s Search for Meaning) said, “Happiness cannot be pursued; it must ensue. One must have a reason to ‘be happy.’” So he and Lyubomirsky appear to be on the same page. But it isn’t true that happiness can’t be pursued. It’s pursued all the time by quite a large number of people—not only pursued, but attained—at least temporarily. It’s also not true that money can’t buy happiness. It doesn’t always, but it definitely can. At least for a while.

Attempting to maintain a steady-state of happiness requires the ongoing pursuit of bigger and better things or experiences. We have an unfortunate tendency to become complacent with what we already have. We then require more things and more experiences to feed our happiness addiction—or our pleasure addiction, if we’re on board with Epicurus and consider the good life to be a life of hedonism. Yet another piece of bad news is the overwhelming evidence that most of us don’t really know what will make us happy, which can make the pursuit of happiness extremely frustrating and possibly even futile.

Happy as a Clam*

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with feeling happy or wanting to feel happy. Happiness is great stuff, but there’s a reason why pursuing it or trying to be happy all the time is not a good idea.

A good mood is a signal [to the brain] that things are generally going well, the environment is safe, and it is all right to let one’s guard down. A bad mood indicates that things are not going very well, there may be a threat, and vigilance is required.

Good mood, intuition, creativity, gullibility, and increased reliance on System 1 form a cluster. At the other pole, sadness, vigilance, suspicion, an analytic approach, and increased effort also go together. A happy mood loosens the control of System 2 over performance: when in a good mood, people become more intuitive and more creative but also less vigilant and more prone to logical errors. —Daniel Kahneman, Thinking, Fast and Slow

*The full expression is happy as a clam at high tide. Clams are happy at high tide because they can only be dug up at low tide. At high tide they’re safe and secure, which is what System 1 wants us to be.

The Good Life: Gratified or Satisfied?

So what’s the solution to the problem of dissatisfaction? Pursuing happiness and pursuing what is meaningful use different parts of our brain. The pursuit of happiness keeps us fixated on ourselves and on gratifying our immediate wants and needs. Our unconscious (System 1) is focused on the short-term rewards that make us feel good in the moment (because that indicates we’re safe) but which can actually add up to an increase in dissatisfaction. The pursuit of happiness doesn’t appear to be the solution to our existential dissatisfaction.

We have the ability to determine what is meaningful to us. Because what is meaningful is less transitory, we have a much better chance of achieving and sustaining a meaningful life—and therefore a satisfying one—than we have of achieving and maintaining a happy life. When we’re oriented to something bigger than we are—and bigger than our immediate wants and needs—we’re less susceptible to the pull of immediate gratification. When we give our big brain (consciousness, System 2) something worthwhile to focus on, we can achieve goals or create things that actually make a difference, to us and to others.

Our obsession with happiness may be intimately related to a feeling of emptiness, to a sense that our lives lack meaning. Although we recognize our dissatisfaction, we don’t realize the source of it. As a result, we’re stuck on the hamster wheel of System 1 looking for the solution in all the wrong places, unable to look up long enough to even identify what’s most important to us, let alone figure out how to attain it.

Filed Under: Beliefs, Creating, Happiness, Living, Meaning Tagged With: Good Life, Happiness, Meaning, Meaningfulness

Giving the Unconscious a Makeover

August 7, 2015 by Joycelyn Campbell Leave a Comment

unconscious

Humans have been aware for quite some time that the unconscious—a powerful yet mysterious force that exerts some degree of control over us—must exist. But what exactly is it? It can’t be accessed directly, and the technologies for observing brain activity are relatively recent. So over time, numerous theories about the unconscious have been proposed, including concepts for what it does, what its purpose is, and what’s actually in it.

The various, often competing, theories of the unconscious have clouded our current understanding of it.

Some earlier theories have been proven to be partially (even surprisingly) correct, while others appear to be far off the mark. The current perspective of the unconscious has challenged many cherished and long-held beliefs. For one thing, it has added considerable fuel to the debate about free will, which is normally the province of philosophers and religious scholars.

There remains some disagreement, mainly within different branches of psychology, about how the unconscious functions and what it does. But although there is much left to discover about the unconscious—and about the brain, in general—we have learned quite a bit about it in the past few decades.

The Freudian View
It’s a jungle down there.

The idea of the unconscious existed before Freud, but his model is the one most closely associated with the concept.

He came up with the “tip of the iceberg” view of the conscious and unconscious aspects of the mind.

Freud was correct in regard to the powerful impact of the unconscious on our thoughts, feelings, and behavior: we are not entirely aware of what we think and often have no idea why we do some of the things we do.

He based his model of the unconscious on case studies involving “abnormal thought and behavior.” It was not arrived at by scientific experimentation, many of the tools of which were unavailable to him.

Freud thought the unconscious contained repressed thoughts, feelings, and memories, which were too disturbing to admit to consciousness. He didn’t think people repressed things intentionally. He thought the unconscious, at least in part, determined what was repressed.

Over the years, empirical tests have not been kind to the specifics of the Freudian model, though in broad-brush terms the cognitive and social psychological evidence does support Freud as to the existence of unconscious mentation and its potential to impact judgments and behavior. —John A. Bargh and Ezequiel Morsella, The Unconscious Mind

He believed there was an aspect of consciousness called “preconscious” that contained thoughts, ideas, memories, etc. that were not in conscious awareness, but that could easily become conscious—meaning they were not repressed.

He also considered the unconscious to be the source of anxiety-provoking drives that were unacceptable to the individual for one reason or another.

He proposed that the unconscious was divided into the id (primitive; the source of drives), the ego (regulator or satisfier of the id; referee between the id and the superego), and the superego (censor of the ego, source of guilt, moral monitor). These concepts are not generally used outside of psychoanalysis, one of the aims of which is to make what is unconscious conscious.

Freud believed we can become aware of some unconscious motivations indirectly through dreams (“the royal road to the unconscious”), slips of the tongue, and free association.

The Jungian View:
It’s a mystical, magical place–but what does it all mean?

Jung believed it was possible to link consciousness to the unconscious through the process of individuation (self-realization). According to Jung, we have a persona—a mask or a false self—that we present to others and to ourselves, but which is not our true or authentic self. Only by “becoming conscious of the unconscious,” which includes facing our shadow—or dark side—can we become who we are meant to be and “fulfill our unique promise.”

Jung believed that “the unconscious had in mind” this process of individuation or self-realization.

James Hillman, who studied with Jung, authored The Soul’s Code: In Search of Character and Calling, in which he wrote, “[T]his book is about calling, about fate, about character, about innate image. Together they make up the ‘acorn theory,’ which holds that each person bears a uniqueness that asks to be lived and that is already present before it can be lived.”

However, psychologists, philosophers, and neuroscientists currently hold the view that we are not one self, but many. Rather than having one persona, we have several personas we present at different times and to different people. Philosopher Julian Baggini endorses a shift from thinking about ourselves as “the thing which has all the experiences of life” to thinking of ourselves as “simply that collection of all experiences in life.”

The true self, as it were then, is not something that is just there for you to discover. You don’t sort of look into your soul and find your true self. What you are partly doing, at least, is actually creating your true self.

While Freud was a religious skeptic, Jung studied a number of different religions and believed in the soul—an immaterial, immortal aspect of a person.

In addition to the personal unconscious (which is unique to each individual), Jung believed there is another layer he called the collective unconscious which contains elements that do not develop from our personal experiences but are inherited by everyone. The components of the collective unconscious, according to Jung, include symbolic motifs, especially in the form of archetypes.

Dream interpretation was central to Jung’s theories, as it was to Freud’s. He considered dreams an important element in the process of individuation, believing they drew on contents of both the personal and the collective unconscious.

The Jamesian View:
It’s not a place or an entity; it’s a set of processes.

William James refuted Freud’s concept or model of the unconscious, but he was well aware of the existence of the unconscious—and of its importance. He was also an excellent observer and without the benefit of any of the tools now available to researchers he arrived at several conclusions about how our minds and brains function that have since been confirmed.

His book, Habits, written in the late 1800s, is worth reading today. He says, “[H]abit diminishes the conscious attention with which our acts are performed.” And, “[N]ot only is it the right thing at the right time that we thus involuntarily do, but the wrong thing also, if it be an habitual thing.”

William James defines the term “ahead of his time.” Before neuroscience gave scientific backing to concepts such as “automaticity,” James was already writing about them. His astounding intuition concerning why we think as we think and act as we act has never been eclipsed and has few parallels in any field. —David DiSalvo, Brain Changer

James is one of the first proponents of the dual-process theory of thinking—the idea that our thinking consists of associative thinking as well as “true reasoning.” In that regard, he drew a pretty accurate bead on the unconscious (associative thinking).

The Neuroscience View:
It’s a web of vast, intricate, processing modules.

Because early theories about the unconscious were primarily (or purely) psychological or philosophical, they did not include an understanding of brain “mechanics”—synapses, neurons, neurotransmitters, etc. So those explanations were incomplete and unscientific.

Beginning about twenty-five years ago, the fields of psychology and neuroscience underwent a revolution. Psychology was primarily using decades-old methods to understand human behavior through things that were objective and observable, such as learning lists of words or the ability to perform tasks while distracted. Neuroscience was primarily studying the communication among cells and the biological structure of the brain.

The psychologists had difficulty studying the biological material—the hardware—that gave rise to thought. The neuroscientists, being stuck down at the level of individual neurons, had difficultly studying actual behaviors. The revolution was the invention of noninvasive neuroimaging techniques, a set of tools analogous to an X-ray that showed not just the contours and structure of the brain but how parts of the brain behaved in real time during actual thought and behavior—pictures of the thinking brain at work. The technologies—positron emission tomography, functional magnetic resonance imaging, and magneto-encephalography—are now well known by their abbreviations (PET, fMRI, and MEG). —Daniel J. Levitin, The Organized Mind: Thinking Straight in the Age of Information Overload

Consciousness is the reasoning, rational part of the brain we’re aware of that makes decisions; it’s what we think of when we think of who we are. The unconscious consists of all the activity behind the scenes that keeps us alive and maintains our model of the world. The unconscious contributes to our conscious sense of self much more than we are aware. But because the operations of the unconscious are invisible to us, we tend to dismiss or discount them (or in some cases, invest them with magical superpowers).

The unconscious keeps us alive; if it intends anything for us, it intends for us to survive.

Many of the operations of the unconscious are universal—they work pretty much the same for everyone. But since one of the jobs of the unconscious is to create our particular model of the world, other elements in it are unique—or at least not identical—for each individual.

Our unconscious programs are constantly being tweaked, usually without our being aware of it. That programming initiates our responses to what happens to us, which is why we often react in ways that surprise us. It’s also why habits get formed without our intending them—and why they are so hard to change even when we want to change them. It’s why we can—and do—do, think, and feel so many things on autopilot.

The new model of the unconscious is a more mechanical model than the models of Freud or Jung. But this model more accurately describes and explains how and why we do the things we do, think the things we think, and feel the things we feel.

It’s also an enlightened model that offers a straightforward and practical approach to understanding ourselves and others, changing undesirable behavior, and creating more of the life we want to have and a world we want to live in.

Filed Under: Beliefs, Brain, Consciousness, Living, Meaning, Mind, Unconscious Tagged With: Carl Jung, Neuroscience, Sigmund Freud, The Unconscious, William James

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  • The Cosmic Gift & Misery
    Distribution System
  • Should You Practice Gratitude?
  • You Give Truth a Bad Name
  • What Are So-Called
    Secondary Emotions?

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The Farther to Go! Manifesto

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joycelyn@farthertogo.com
505-332-8677

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