How's your limbic system?
At this time of year, a lot of people commit themselves to getting into shape, so they are moving their arms and legs more. If you watched my recent interview with my personal trainer, you know that I believe in exercising my limbs, but my limbic system? Well, when it gets busy, I should be wary.
Your limbic system is inside your brain. It consists of a number of parts, including your amygdala, which controls the flight-or-flight impulses, aggressiveness, and more. This part of your brain is important — after all, an impulse from your amygdala could save your life if you happen upon a bear in the woods. Alas, your limbic system can also lead you astray. To take an obvious example, aggressiveness can make you do things you will regret. (How did that barroom brawl work out for you?)
Another part of the brain can rescue you from making these mistakes — if you give it a chance. The neocortex is responsible for something called executive function; in other words, it can override the primitive impulses arising in the limbic system and protect us from actions that would hurt ourselves or others. Psychologist Jonathan Haidt has a useful metaphor for these two psychological entities: the elephant and the rider. To put it simply, we need to train our riders to control our elephants.
The first step is to take a breath — maybe two or three. You probably have heard the advice to count to 10 before doing something when angry. Breathing is even better because of its physiological effects. A New York Times article reports:
"Consciously changing the way you breathe appears to send a signal to the brain to adjust the parasympathetic branch of the nervous system, which can slow heart rate and digestion and promote feelings of calm as well as the sympathetic system, which controls the release of stress hormones like cortisol."
In any case, you need to give your neocortex a chance to get those executive functions going. I remember something I heard a presenter say years ago when I was at a conference. She pointed out that we feel before we think. That's a fact of brain physiology. Information collected through the senses passes through the limbic system before it gets to the neocortex, so it can help a great deal to take a pause and give your neocortex a chance to get the memo, peruse it, stroke its chin a little.
In my last column, I drew on an anecdote from Benjamin Franklin to make the case for playing things out. Your neocortex is the brain component that can play things out.
You’re angry, and you know you’re right, and you really want to tell this guy off or yell at your kid or quit your job, but . . .what is likely to happen next and after that and after that? Whoa, you may not like where this is leading.
I would be willing to bet that most of you can remember a time when you didn't play things out, maybe didn't even let your neocortex read the memo. Did you like the result? I'm guessing that you didn't care for the way things played out 9 or even 10 times out of 10.
Benjamin Franklin was not always good at playing things out. One endearing (and instructive) aspect of his autobiography is that he recounts his mistakes (which he called errata, a printer's term for errors in a book) along with his successes. For example, he tells the story of a friend who left town — and his sweetheart — for a period of time. Seizing this opportunity, Franklin admits that he "attempted familiarities (another erratum), which she repuls'd with a proper resentment." For those of you keeping score, that's Elephant: 1, Rider: 0.
With age, apparently, came wisdom and a rider more in control of his elephant. Many years later, Franklin found himself beleaguered by a fellow diplomat named Arthur Lee while both were representing the colonies in France during the American Revolution. Lee sounds like a real piece of work, the kind who would drive just about anyone to distraction. Franklin crafted this response to Lee:
“It is true I have omitted answering some of your Letters. I do not like to answer angry Letters. I hate Disputes. I am old, cannot have long to live, have much to do and no time for Altercation. If I have often receiv’d and borne your Magisterial Snubbings and Rebukes without Reply, ascribe it to the right Causes, my Concern for the Honour and Success of our Mission, which would be hurt by our Quarrelling, my Love of Peace, my Respect for your good Qualities, and my Pity of your Sick Mind, which is forever Tormenting itself, with its Jealousies, Suspicions and Fancies that others mean you ill, wrong you, or fail in Respect for you. If you do not cure your self of this Temper it will end in Insanity, of which it is the Symptomatick Forerunner, as I have seen in several Instances. God preserve you from so terrible an Evil, and for his sake pray suffer me to live in quiet.”
Franklin's words, for all of their eloquence, betray his exasperation — and perhaps a hint of seething anger — but here's the thing: Franklin never sent this message. His neocortex took over and provided some invaluable restraint. Score one for the rider.
In his autobiography, Franklin articulated a piece of advice that probably arose from his experience dealing with difficult people like Lee: "Forbear resenting Injuries so much as you think they deserve." That's good advice from Franklin's rider, one that all of us should remember.
Your limbic system is trying to help you. He really is. Still, without a neocortex to play things out and exercise some executive functions, your limbic system can wreak havoc. Take some time. Breathe. Consult your neocortex. She wants to help, too, and she has much better judgment.
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