In my last newsletter I shared three findings in neuroscience that unlock the evolutionary potential of our species – especially when it comes to ensuring a vibrant future for ourselves and all life.
The first finding is that our personal experiences help determine how our brain is wired. This is referred to as neural integration.
The second finding is that the degree of neural integration is a predictor of our overall well being. Impaired integration is associated with rigidity, chaos and emotional reactivity, while increased integration is associated with greater emotional resilience, flexibility and adaptability.
The third finding is that our brain has a feature called neuroplasticity. This makes it possible for us to increase our brain’s neural integration through conscious effort.
Taken together, these findings make clear that the path to becoming a more resilient, flexible, and adaptable human being – the path to increased brain integration – is open to all of us. In this post I want to begin exploring what’s needed to walk that path.
Stillness
I don’t mean to get all Zen on you (or maybe I do), but the first step on the path to greater brain integration is to do nothing. To practice the art of stillness.
Stillness is to the transformation of our brain what soil is to the transformation of an acorn. It’s the essential environment for growth.
Stillness is a core teaching of almost every spiritual tradition. “Be still, and know that I am God,” says the Torah. “To the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders,” said the fifth century founder of Daoism, Laozi. Hakuin, the 18th century Japanese Zen master, put it similarly: “If you forget yourself, you become the universe.”
Stillness as a gateway to greater awareness now finds resonance in neuroscience. Stress, anxiety, rigid preconceptions, and emotional reactivity all diminish our mind’s ability to take in new information. A still mind, on the other hand, has the power to interrupt old patterns of thought and behavior, putting them on “pause” and creating space for new thoughts and behaviors to emerge – the very process by which new neural connections are made.
Anyone who’s tried knows that stilling our mind isn’t easy. That’s because our mind is rife with inner chatter. At any given moment, we’re daydreaming, fantasizing, ruminating, traveling in time, reflecting on ourselves, and worrying – all often without realizing it. This is known as mind-wandering, and it's associated with feelings of unhappiness. Especially when we get caught in a downward spiral of worry, self-critique, and resentment.
Finding stillness in this unhappy hubbub of activity requires first, that we become aware of our mind wanderings, and second, that we reflect on its content. Often our subconscious preoccupations provide a window into thoughts, feelings and behaviors that, upon reflection, no longer serve us. Bringing them to awareness and discovering their source weakens their hold. Our mind begins to open up. Different areas of our brain activate. New patterns of neural integration emerge. We become more present. More compassionate. And better able to handle the stress and complexities of our daily lives.
Let me give a personal example of what I mean.
I was at our local gym, going through my exercise routine, when, without conscious awareness, I started having some very negative thoughts about a few of the other gym members. Put off by what I perceived as their aggressive swagger, I began projecting on these people a host of negative attributes. I even started imagining one of them disrespecting me in some way, and me quickly and thoroughly putting them in their place.
Fortunately, at this point in my life I had a nascent stillness practice, the part of me able to stand back and observe my thoughts and actions. I was able to catch myself making these negative projections, and it stunned me. What in the world was I doing? Why had I turned perfectly nice people – which in fact they were – into arrogant bullies? And why did I find it necessary to fantasize a scenario in which I came out the victor in some imagined confrontation?
All good questions, and after some focused reflection I got my answers. I realized these gym members had triggered old memories and emotions associated with being bullied in grade school. More specifically, they triggered my humiliation at being too scared to stand up for myself. Which is why, in my gym-induced imaginings, I envisioned exhibiting the courage I never had as a child.
That was a revelation – the gift of being able to reflect on my past with a level of maturity unavailable to me in my youth. I forgave my childhood tormentors and, more meaningful to me, I forgave myself for what at the time I perceived as my cowardice.
In neurological terms, I upgraded my wiring. I let old and unhelpful neural patterns atrophy, and new connections emerge – ones that strengthened my compassion for myself and others.
I hope that example helps clarify one way a stillness practice can help increase our neural integration. It’s a powerful heuristic: A tool for constant self discovery that leads to a happier, freer, and more fulfilled life – one that benefits you and all the people around you.
If you don’t have a stillness practice and would like to develop one, here’s a helpful place to begin: Pay more attention to the thoughts that flit through your mind. Every once in a while, stop and ask yourself: “What am I thinking right now?” You might even want to write that question down on some stickies, placed strategically where you’re likely to encounter them.
Once you've answered that question, ask yourself how those thoughts are making you feel. Are they lifting you up or bringing you down? Do they spread good will or ill will?
Over time you’ll find patterns – certain kinds of thoughts, subjects or situations that keep reappearing. These are signs of neural patterns that have been reinforced and may warrant looking at more closely. Find the time to investigate and bring to awareness their true source. Sometimes that alone is enough to be free of their grip.
Another wonderful resource for developing a stillness practice is a small book by the Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh, called How to Focus. It’s a series of short essays and accompanying practices that both my wife and I have found very helpful.
Thanks for reading, and have a great weekend.