Playing the World into Existence – Chapter 9

Seductive Demons

Now that we’ve seen that the body plays its mind into existence, does this mean it takes second place in rank, letting the autonomous mind take over? That the body has finished its duty, handing over the keys to the control centre? That the mind is, after all, ‘over matter’?

It’s worth probing the puzzle of ‘mind’ once more, this time, taking an emotional vantage point.

But to avoid any expectations of an ‘either or’ answer (since the seesaw method of origin and rank will forever swing), it is important to know that answers to ‘chicken or egg’ questions – such as ‘matter or mind’ – will never be ‘either or’. It is ‘neither nor’. And to look ahead at the controlling idea of this thought process – it is the equilibrium of opposing things in dialogue. As the entire journey of ‘Playing the World into Existence’ suggests; it is the force which drives me toward unachievable desires – this spark which flashes past, far too fast to understand what it is, but far too bright for me to forget. It is the unknown, which allows me to value what can be known – it is the savouring of the afterglow from this spark, which keeps me searching. It is the creative spark.

So, how can we confirm that ‘mind over matter’ falls into the ‘neither nor’ category from this new emotional vantage point?

The brain is divided into layers. However, they were once believed to have developed over countless years, from primitive man, to civilised man, one at a time, like a lasagne. This was the general belief, before any modern neurology began to emerge shortly before the 20th Century. The lowest layer was the primitive brain, also known as ‘paleocortex’. This is followed by the midbrain, or mesencephalon, then the highly developed neocortex, or ‘new brain’. Today we know that there is of course a development from primitive to complex brain – where the same brain we’ve always had has evolved – but it is certainly not layered with the unwanted leftovers from our ancestors by miraculously adding new separate parts on top of the brain. Brains of mammals (to which humans belong) were always complete. The only development is in the size of cortical areas. Primitive mammalian brains also have a neocortex. The only difference between such a cortex and that of humans is that the former consists of just a few neurons, whilst the latter has expanded to gargantuan dimensions. The vintage scientist however, preached that the ‘old animal brain’ which we still possessed from more primitive times, had to be in constant battle with the ‘rational brain’, which, newly acquired by divine intervention, was layered within the same skull. The crux of this upward layering vision they had, was a teleological one: the belief in our perfectibility.

One can compare this dated, now redundant cortical concept to the way they may have perceived a stately home at the time. The first layer to the house began with a dark and mysterious cellar with large walls supporting the building. A gentleman or a lady wouldn’t be caught loitering down there – where unpleasant smells, cobwebs, dust, and forgotten memories were stored away. Servants, who did everything in their power to make life on the top floor as pleasant as possible, occupied the next level up. The belle etage, however, was considered the most important part of the house. Here dwelled the masters. Intelligent conversation took place, books were read, and music was played. The house was managed from this vantage point. Orders were given and important decisions were made here.

But did they really believe the house functioned this way? Did people who lived before modern neurology emerged, really believe that the brain – like some may have assumed a respectable house was ruled in hierarchical fashion – was governed by the top layer, and haunted by the lower layer of undesirable or socially unacceptable thought.

As satisfying as this ‘hierarchical ruling brain’ may have sounded at first, it has however, considerable flaws. Even the more unusual literati and thinkers from this time must have felt uneasy with this officially accepted vision – and they were not reticent in expressing misgivings. Marquis De Sade, for example, has his novels unfold in dark, underground dungeons, similar to the underbelly of this cortical house – with its cellars, torture chambers and unendingly long, dark passageways. But do the master and the mistress forever stay on the top floor, involved in beautiful thought and rational endeavours? It does not need much fantasy to come to a different conclusion. Perhaps there is a discreet detour to the middle floor, where a servant girl intoxicates the master with an innocent smile, or a servant boy’s curly hair lures the mistress downstairs. The detour might lead further down into the cellar, where more potent, and even forbidden pleasures and vices are to be found. But the real dangers come from underneath the house, where the demons are kept in chains. Could they not break loose at any moment? And could they not throw out their masters and take over the top floor together with the entire house? Could the house not be governed in any orders of level, or even rely entirely on each other to make one unified functional or dysfunctional building?

Some of the literature of the time, (influenced by excessive religious, educational, scientific and social fears), seemed to have consequently expressed a greater temptation and curiosity in exploring the ‘primitive brain’ or ‘dark dungeons’. There must have been a strange odour, which drifted up from the cellar to the ‘belle étage’ – wafts of temptation, as sweet as a rotting corpse.

Your body is the enemy!

Pre modern neurological thought must have made it known to society, that the royal seat of their intelligence and rationality was clearly to be found in the  ‘cerebral belle étage’ (to use the house metaphor once more). This way of thinking invited them to conclude that stopping the bad influx of urges and forbidden desires from the ‘primitive brain’ was possible by using the ‘rational side of the brain’ more efficiently. Consequently, strengthening this part of the brain (through education and religious practices, for example) was, and still is, considered the pathway to a spiritual life. But we need not look too far to see that this was wishful thinking. We are a predominantly irrational species, however well educated we are. The reason for this discrepancy between wish and reality is very simple. To use the house simile once more: the activity in the cortical building works not from top to bottom, not from top floor to cellar – it works al riverso. Everything begins in the cellar, where our demons skulk! And it usually stays put here! Rational thought, the very quality that ought to keep our demons at bay, depends clearly and unambiguously on the cellar, the limbic system – the very place in our brain, which we try to dominate by using our rational faculties. The top floor is conspicuously seldom involved in anything at all, and if it is, then perhaps only to pay the bills for irreparable damage made in the cellar or in the deeper and darker dungeons on which this house rests.

But although we may now think we have overcome that period of ‘hierarchical brain’ belief, we still fall into a similar way of thinking, by treating the body as this ‘primitive’, animalistic part of us which needs to be tamed by our ‘belle étage’. To ask the question again: does the body take second place once rational thought is played into existence? It has to be answered with a resounding No. No, the body does not take second place. It is entirely pivotal in creating a mind, and maintaining a mind – not only from an evolutionary slant, but also beyond evolutional processes, which have moulded us from a moving piece of matter into a self-conscious creature. Strangely, however, instead of recognizing it as an ally in rational endeavours, the body is considered to be the opposite: an enemy that must be fought. The reason for such disregard lies in the body itself, which is a visible outlet for our drives and urges. And exactly here lies the problem. Not only sexual drives, which are often looked at with suspicion, but also sickness and neglect can be observed here. A body can steep to a frighteningly low level. It can become ugly, even vile. And there is another problem: the body gets in the way of mental efforts. It needs nutrition and care and can become sick – time consuming and often stifling occurrences that take away energy from the mind. No wonder the body was, and is, seen as the enemy of the mind.

Recently, however, strong evidence of the pivotal role of the body in matters of the mind has re-emerged. The evidence, strangely, comes from something we associate entirely with the brain – something that seems to show without a trace of doubt that the mind and the brain control the body. It is so deeply linked to our belief in ‘mind over matter’ that it has become a sacrilege to doubt its cortical and mental roots.

What I am alluding to are our emotions.

Emotions

‘We feel sorry because we cry, angry because we strike, afraid because we tremble, and not that we cry, strike or tremble, because we are sorry, angry or fearful, as the case may be’.

This is how William James (1842-1910), the famous American psychologist and philosopher understands emotions. According to James, physical action does not materialize because we ‘feel like it’. On the contrary – first we do it, and then we feel like it!

Admittedly, as the experiencing subject, we naturally understand things the other way round – for the simple sake of sanity and ordered consciousness – where we feel that our state of mind almost always leads us to the next action we take, giving us this feeling of free will. But as with the chicken and egg dilemma, there is always another action that precedes that very state of mind we’re currently in. Musicians especially believe very firmly in their emotional states. But art, especially performing art, is intensely physical. While mind and body will always remain unified, the state of mind is secondary to state of body – where action precedes emotion, where slapping a child precedes regret – for example. While it is challenging and almost undesirable to imagine an emotion being nothing but a chemical process responding to an event, we must be reassured that this response is yet another beginning – it is a result and a cause.  Whether it is heads or tails, it cannot produce this required equilibrium of dialogue of opposing forces unless the coin is actually in the process of spinning. When a coin spins, it looks like a sphere, and neither head nor tail can be seen. It is an active force.

When I perform a piece of music – let’s say, for example, the Mendelssohn violin concerto – I know very well how the first phrase (and all the rest) sounds.  And this ‘knowing’, which I have acquired through practising, suffices. The piece is in me, like a landscape from beginning to end. If you like, this example might help: You drive a certain route very often, and since you know it well, it is unnecessary to imagine the route or follow it on a map. All you have to do is drive. The control over the car and the circumstances on the road takes you to your destination, nothing else! It would even be dangerous to focus on where to drive instead of focussing on the road. You might end up in hospital if you attempt this seriously. Likewise with playing: I don’t need to waste time and energy with imagining the first phrase. I know it already, even if I don’t hear it in my mind. I can go directly to what matters: timing the phrases and the tempo of the music, as well as feeling body, instrument and fingers contacting and moving. Only afterwards does the internal musical and emotional landscape appear. And this does not just happen on stage; I carry it already with me onto the stage. It is a state I am already in for some time before the performance begins. And because my body is already in the music before I begin to play, my emotions and my musical imagination are flowing – ready to carry me away. The important point here is that I gain emotional and imaginative states through body and instrument and not the other way round.

This excursion into playing the violin should also have paved the way for an understanding of emotions and their bodily origin. William James must have ruffled some feathers with his controversial statement. Emotions and feelings, for us, are subtle expressions of the mind. If any development in contemporary psychology has made one point clear, it must be this: a sick mind, swamped by sick emotions makes the body sick. This means that the body responds to the mind and not the other way round.

With this, we might think that James’ insight had been relegated to the dumping ground of eccentricities. But recently, the so-called James-Lange theory[1] has gained more recognition. Summed up by James with the slogan: ‘the perception of bodily changes as they occur is the emotion’, it had regained popularity through theorists like Antonio Damasio and others who appeal to neurological evidence.

But how do emotions come about?

When my body is in danger – for example, its temperature rises or falls beyond acceptable boundaries – it will respond with specific counter measures. This automatic response to anything that might jeopardize my health and well-being is called homeostasis. To initiate counter measures to potentially life threatening changes, certain parts of my brain become unusually active. A dangerous rise in body temperature, for example, will push the cortical areas, which control my breathing, into overdrive. This results in panting and hyperventilating, which cools my body and pumps more oxygen through its veins. In addition, various defence mechanisms will be set into motion and, simultaneously, physical activity will be reduced. My body feels tired and stoops. And if the fever becomes strong, my body is entirely out of action. But not only my body feels these effects; my mind becomes equally affected. I feel ‘down’, I feel depressed, even frightened. My emotional level is on a ‘low’. On the other hand, when I am healthy, I experience things differently. My breathing is regular, calm and stable. My body feels well, active and tall. My mind feels happy, at times even elated. I feel confident, even daring and powerful. My emotional level is on a ‘high’. These two states (unwell and well) are mirrored by two mental states: low and high. Whatever unfolds between these two extremes is called ‘emotions’.

According to this, emotions are direct and distinct responses of the brain to changes in the body. First are the changes, and only then come the emotional responses, triggered off by chemicals, which literally swamp the brain. But the important point is that these chemicals need something that triggers them. They do not just appear on their own but are brought on in response to what happens to me. So goes the James-Lange theory. But as we have seen so many times, there is always the other side to be considered. The James-Lange theory focuses on one direction: from body to mind. But should we not also consider the other side: from mind to body?

There is of course evidence also for this view. We have theories arguing in favour of cognitive activity, like judgement, for an emotion to occur. Only this captures the truth that emotions are about something. The Cannon-Bard theory goes even further. Whilst traditional cognitive theories admit that cognitive processes work in tandem with bodily responses, the Cannon-Bard theory argues that emotions emerge first, followed by the typical behaviour we recognise in the body. For example: I feel embarrassed. I experience this as a kind of shame, and in response, blood shoots into my face. Clearly enough, the trigger is my feeling of shame, which stimulates the appropriate ‘typical behaviour’ of turning red in the face. It seems unlikely that my face turns first red, as the James-Lange theory would assert, and as a result of this, I feel shame. Is this then not proof that emotions precede physical responses?

Obviously, physical reaction can result from mental activity. This is already unavoidable because we live our lives simultaneously on an external and on an internal plane.

It is important, for this reason alone, that emotions are not only looked at from one direction. The James-Lange theory, which focuses on ‘body to mind’ has to be put side by side with something that sees it the other way round, like the Cannon-Bard theory. What happens now when we look at both these theories and try to find a synthesis?

When the Cannon-Bard theory mentions ‘typical behaviour’, we have to ask first of all: what is this? Surely, in order to stimulate ‘typical behaviour’ from emotional states, there needs to be a connection to a body that ‘knows’ already these typical responses. It seems unlikely that shame teaches our face the ‘typical behaviour’ to turn red. Why should it? And anyway, what is shame, if it is not about something? And this ‘about something’ lies either in the external world or in the physical condition of our body. Something must have happened previously that caused this combination of shame and turning red. Let me speculate about what could have happened.

Just imagine that, as a child, one of your parents slaps you in the face and accompanies this with: ‘aren’t you ashamed of yourself’!?. You feel the pain, and then the blood rushing to your face. Your face, which still has the remnants of a sadistic grin after looking at the cat – whose tail you have attached to a rotating fan – is now changing from grinning to crying.

Now, this dramatic scene must have taught you something. First: your actions have consequences, and painful ones at times. Second: laughing can change instantly into crying. Your physical state, which can change rapidly, determines your emotions. You are watching after all something funny (at least from your perspective), but as a consequence you are slapped in the face and feel pain. The watching of the cat attached to the fan and the ensuing slap in the face are in the physical world, whilst your emotional world unfolds only after this event inside your brain. This ensures that a physical event becomes the trigger of an emotion. At this moment it ‘is’, simultaneously, also the emotion! And since this is experienced in full awareness, it has also intentionality. You are tacitly and usually only subconsciously aware that you feel sorry: sorry about the state you are in. And since someone has changed pleasure into pain with one humiliating and violent act, this feeling of being sorry mutates later into shame and embarrassment about something: not about what you have done to the poor cat, but about the painful humiliation you have just experienced! The sublimation of this experience into a concept of morals (which, as we are so often told is the genuine trigger of our shame) is an event that might take place only much later.   

This physical event and its memory, together with the (subconscious) awareness that your emotion is about something – this memory and awareness is the starting point of a strange reversal. And here the Cannon-Bard theory enters the scene. Something that was entirely physical turns into something entirely mental. The fact that only bodily changes trigger emotions turns into the opposite: emotions trigger bodily changes! Years later, you have conveniently forgotten this embarrassing episode, and begin to suffer from unexplainable bouts of shame, which makes you red in the face. The first time you became aware of this may be when you tried to kiss a beautiful girl who just previously stroked a cat (despite you being totally unaware of this). Your limbic system detects a distinct smell of cat when you come close to her. It will not take long until this embarrassment of getting a bright red face turns into a fully blown phobia. You have only to think of kissing a girl and your face begins to glow with shame! You have by now fallen prey to a mental form of Pavlov’s ‘conditional reflexes’[2]. And, to bring this prank to its conclusion: the next time you meet a beautiful young man who was not in contact with a cat – you realize that he does not trigger these negative emotions. You conclude that you prefer men, marry him and live happily ever after.[3]

But let us be serious again! There is no doubt that sheer imagination can trigger emotions followed by physical reactions. Does this then not endorse that mind is over matter and confirm its validity? It seems so, but of course it does not! ‘Mind over matter’ has its place, especially in eastern esotericism and philosophy. But the fundamental difference between such a profound thought system and the silliness of our western version of it is that the former deals with something real whilst the latter is a mere shadow show. Eastern philosophy has something to do with ‘nothingness’. Nothingness is where everything comes from and goes back to again. It is something - albeit entirely unfathomable for our limited mental capacities – best explained with oxymora, contradictions in terms or metaphors. Nothingness is the place where mind and matter cease to exist and turn into something incomprehensible for a brain like ours – a brain which is the embodiment of the world of matter with the ability to dabble in something that, strictly speaking, transcends its nature but is nevertheless and miraculously build into it.

Going back to emotions: they are also not a shadow show. They do not come just on their own or when we ‘will’ them. They need something real to set the processes into motion, which floods our brain with neurotransmitters like dopamine, serotonin, norepinephrine and many others, which, in turn, set our emotions, feelings and, ultimately, our cognitive, intellectual and hands-on acts into motion. Emotions require reality. This reality might be stored in our memory banks as memories – but it is nevertheless real and not just imagined. From these neuronal shortcuts of reality come our emotions, thoughts and deeds, which we confuse so often with purely mental processes of thinking and feeling. To give an example: actors use a technique of remembering real situations, which had a profound emotional effect on them. Starting with this memory of something real, they gain access to their emotions. And in turning this process around, they can influence their body. If the young boy who attached the fan to the cat becomes an actor, he can relive this episode and feel the same emotions that made his sadistic grin turn into a sorrowful crying face. My modest experiences with the Mendelssohn violin concerto come from the same source. I still remember how my body felt when I heard it the first time on a recording with David Oistrach. And of course, we should not forget Marcel Proust in this context. The two episodes in his ‘A la Recherch du Temps Perdu’ dealing with so-called ‘involuntary memory’ (the one with the tea cake and the other with a stone moving under the narrators feet) are an impressive literary testimony to the truth that emotions are physical, but at the same time also mental.

If we perceive emotions as solely mental, triggering off acts of the body, then we are blissfully unaware of what must happen beforehand in our memory banks, in our somatosensory cortex and all the other parts of our subconscious mind, which are, as we have seen, nothing but an inner form of the body and the actual, real world. But we would be ill advised to understand emotions as something purely physical. Both states seem to go hand in hand, which are of simultaneous origin and support each other. As we shall see increasingly: when brought to a tipping point, they change identities. Body becomes mind and mind becomes body.

To let Schopenhauer have the last word by repeating his great insight, as quoted in an earlier chapter (and if you replace ‘will’ with ‘emotion’, the connection becomes entirely clear):

I say that between the act of will and the bodily action there is no connection whatever; on the contrary, the two are directly one and the same thing perceived in a double way, namely in self-consciousness or the inner sense as an act of will and, simultaneously, as external brain-perception as bodily action.

Written by Detlef Hahn & Danny Hahn. 2010 ©

www.detlefhahn.com

www.danny-hahn.com

© 2011 NeoKitsch

Playing the World into Existence will continue here, exclusively on NeoKitsch.

Keep up to date with the activity on NeoKitsch – subscribe to email updates:

Related content of interest: