Can everyone be an Einstein?
There was a rather flip, funny, yet informative article about neuroplasticity the other day in the Times (the real one, not the NYT). It’s worth reading in full, but here’s a taster:
The brain is not, as the brain trainers like to say, a muscle. It is a 1.3-kilogram crème caramel-like mix of fat, water and proteins driven by electricity and chemicals called neurotransmitters … It’s made to last, at best, about 100 years. It shrinks and deteriorates with age. By the time you’re 30 you’re probably past your intellectual peak. This is a problem, as we’re living longer and longer, and the danger is that we’ll just get stupider and stupider.
It’s a particular problem for baby-boomers, the large, rich, spoilt generation born after the second world war. They’ve had everything, they run the world, but now they’re in their fifties and sixties. They love themselves to bits. But the selves they love are just so many crème caramels soon to pass their sell-by date. Already they can see the signs. Why did you leave your phone in the freezer? Why do you lose your glasses six times a day? These are symptoms of age-associated memory impairment (AAMI). It happens to everybody, but the boomers didn’t think it would happen to them. If brain- enhancing tactics are suddenly fashionable, it’s because of boomer self-love.
Meditation, by the way, has been shown to slow aging in the brain. Then again, you could just try Evernote, which acts as a kind of auxiliary brain, although whether it would help you remember where you left your glasses has yet to be determined.
5 Responses to “Can everyone be an Einstein?”
About this entry
You’re currently reading “Can everyone be an Einstein?,” an entry on Bodhipaksa's blog, bodhi tree swaying
Published: Nov 20 2008
Tags and categories
Tags: neuroscience, Science, the brain
Category: Apropos of nothing, Meditation & practice
Ah, yes. I always did think creme caramel was suspect… reading the Times article made me squirm because I’m not very good at facing the fact that I, me, myself, is made up of perishable physical matter. I just don’t like to think about it, even though in another way I can see it’s a miracle. How on earth do people come to terms with this? Perhaps the answer is simply not to think about it! Yours, not-thinking-about-itly, Mandy.
I do Buddhist practice called the Six Elements where I reflect on the composition of the body, where it comes from, where it’s going to, and the fact that it’s really just borrowed from the so-called outside world. It’s a full-on exploration of our mortality, but I don’t find it at all depressing. One of the things we do in that practice is to be aware of the elements flowing through what we call “us” and bear in mind, “This is not me, this is not mine, I am not this.” I guess the more we identify with the body the more likely we are to be freaked out by the body’s impermanence. How does that fit with your experience?
Hmmm. Your reply is making me wonder how much I do identify with my body. I would have said I didn’t – that having a body is a bit like being shackled to a moody, ageing relative at times (though at other times, its like running around with a muddy child) and yet, when I try to imagine what will be left of me when my body isn’t around any more, I stumble onto a great lack of confidence that there will be anything.
p.s. I think I came across a condensed version of the Six Elements on your CD ‘Meditations for Busy People’? I found it very beautiful.
Hello again
Just to say thanks so much for pointing this up – I’ve listened to ‘Interconnectedness’ on the Busy People CD for the last few days – and although I’ve been an on-off meditator for years, sometimes using Buddhist meditations, sometimes others, it comes as something of a revelation that I might be able to approach a specific fear in this way.
My feelings during this particular meditation have been mainly awe and wonder, and there is a sharp feeling of grief too, a sort of desolation. It’s a very different experience from trying to confront the issue with my intellect, which seems to lead to much stronger, more unpleasant feelings of horror/fear and coldness, minus the sense of beauty and warmth.
I’d listened to that meditation several times before, but somehow hadn’t really made the connection – that it was touching on something so unresolved in me – though I did realise once that I was holding my breath while listening to it, which should have been a bit of a giveaway!
I’ll be looking out for the Six Elements practice – that sounds wonderful, though I imagine it would be a very strong experience for me at this stage.
Thank you again.