We
all have a zoo in our heads: our brains. Inside lives a monkey, a
mouse, and a snake. The monkey or primate brain is what we think of
when we think of the brain. It’s the spongy stuff on top. The snake
or reptile (sometimes called the R-complex), caps the central nervous
system (the spinal cord). Everything in-between is the mouse or the
mammalian brain.
The
primate brain performs complex calculations such as dexterous
motions, subtle distinctions of light and sound patters, symbolic
language, in-depth planning, imagination, logical reductions of
nested causes with multiple effects of varying potentials, temporal
conjecture, and any number of exercises in reasoning that basically
tells us to what to avoid in the pursuit of what we want. It’s the
ultimate semaphore, the big, red stop-sign. When all the other brains
tell you to go, this is the last chance to stop before hurdling the
wall of sanity. Although this brain has access to the whole, it is
often the first ignored.
The
mammalian brain forms our likes and dislikes. Intense emotions,
social status, and egotistical aims are its wheelhouse. It is far too
easy to spend far too much time secluded in the world of mammalian
sensation. Yesteryear is trimmed with silver linings and gilded in
gold; on the other hand, bloodcurdling hate has no better home.
Soundbites construct the strings of cause and effect. Jealousy,
intimacy, fun, affection, disgust, fraternity, jingoism, primitive
justice, admiration, status, blind hope, and community are all
examples of mammalian feelings. Minimal thought stirs deep emotion;
attachment is key. Mammals make great friends and passionate enemies.
The
mammal’s primary preoccupation lies within our social position, our
rung on the ladder. One’s place in society influences one’s
physical health both short term (how you feel about your boss’s
frowning face) as well as long term (how are your ideas received, how
are your choices respected, are you valued as a person and employee).
The hormonal cocktail of social status soaks the brain in either a
toxic sludge or a tonic elixir. How we see our place in the social
hierarchy determines how fast we age, how often we get sick, and how
well we sleep. This complex of neurons responsible for complex
emotion and specific memory is present in all mammals, including
dogs, cats, and even rats. They all have the same feelings as us. But
not all are equipped with a large primate structure to mull them over
in the language of thought, eventually ameliorating them with the
wisdom of planning.
The
reptilian brain is the base. It’s the on switch. It keeps us
digesting, breathing, and our hearts beating. It keeps us safe. It’s
responsible for our reactions to fear, hate, and lust. It loves
mindless ritual and endless calm. It is one big analog switch of
arousal. It governs our two autonomic nervous systems:
parasympathetic and sympathetic. They work in tandem. If one is on,
the other is off. One regulates digestion; the other, stimulation.
One is meant to be turned on most of the time; the other, only when
the time comes. The parasympathetic system promotes homeostasis or
the state of healthy repair; the sympathetic puts that process on
hold in order to act now. Together, they handle the six Fs:
friendship, fostering, food, fight, flight, and fornication. The
reptile sees peace as a fortress. The distinction of friend from foe
or food fills every encounter.
Two
more brains exist, but not in your head; they are in your body.
Massive bundles of neurons create a mosaic of intelligence throughout
your heart and digestive tract. Heartache and gut-feelings are not
just metaphors but the roots, supporting our tree of life. They can
override the whole with a single beat of the heart or turn of the
stomach as illness teaches us all. When they are not overshadowing
our minds with absolute attention, they work mostly in secret along
side the reptile to keep us vertical when awake and dreaming when
horizontal.
