Short Neuroscience Quotes

We have minds that are equipped for certainty, linearity and short-term decisions, that must instead make long-term decisions in a non-linear, probabilistic world.

A lizard never thinks something is wrong with the world, even as it watches its young get eaten alive. It doesn't tell itself "something is wrong with the world," because it doesn't have enough neurons to imagine the world being other than what it is. It doesn't expect a world in which there is no predators, so it doesn't condemn the world for falling short of expectations. it doesn't condemn itself for failing to keep its offspring alive. Humans expect more, and we do something about it. That's why we end up focused on our disappointments instead of saluting our accomplishments.

dorsal prefrontal cortex is critically involved in preparing, deciding, and planning for the future.

Fear-based cultures foster short-term thinking: you become defensive, seek to avoid confrontation or reprisal and focus on eliminating any threats instead of working together to deliver shared targets and outcomes.

Hitherto the conception of chemical transmission at nerve endings and neuronal synapses, originating in Loewi's discovery, and with the extension that the work of my colleagues has been able to give to it, can claim one practical result, in the specific, though alas only short, alleviation of the condition of myasthenia gravis, by eserine and its synthetic analogues.

Notice what you notice. You can’t control the random bits of information that pop into your head. But you can start to notice your biases. When you get annoyed that you’re stuck at a red light think, Oh, that’s interesting. I noticed this red light, but I didn’t notice the last green light I made. In short, try practicing nonjudgmental awareness. Nonjudgmental awareness is a form of mindfulness that simply means noticing without reacting emotionally, even when things don’t turn out as you expected. Awareness does not require emotion, because emotion and awareness are mediated by different brain regions. Noticing a mistake might automatically trigger the emotional amygdala, but becoming aware of your own reaction activates the prefrontal cortex, which calms the amygdala.

Self-Management If you can read just one book on motivation—yours and others: Dan Pink, Drive If you can read just one book on building new habits: Charles Duhigg, The Power of Habit If you can read just one book on harnessing neuroscience for personal change: Dan Siegel, Mindsight If you can read just one book on deep personal change: Lisa Lahey and Bob Kegan, Immunity to Change If you can read just one book on resilience: Seth Godin, The Dip Organizational Change If you can read just one book on how organizational change really works: Chip and Dan Heath, Switch If you can read just two books on understanding that change is a complex system: Frederic Laloux, Reinventing Organizations Dan Pontefract, Flat Army Hear interviews with FREDERIC LALOUX, DAN PONTEFRACT, and JERRY STERNIN at the Great Work Podcast. If you can read just one book on using structure to change behaviours: Atul Gawande, The Checklist Manifesto If you can read just one book on how to amplify the good: Richard Pascale, Jerry Sternin and Monique Sternin, The Power of Positive Deviance If you can read just one book on increasing your impact within organizations: Peter Block, Flawless Consulting Other Cool Stuff If you can read just one book on being strategic: Roger Martin and A.G. Lafley, Playing to Win If you can read just one book on scaling up your impact: Bob Sutton and Huggy Rao, Scaling Up Excellence If you can read just one book on being more helpful: Edgar Schein, Helping Hear interviews with ROGER MARTIN, BOB SUTTON, and WARREN BERGER at the Great Work Podcast. If you can read just two books on the great questions: Warren Berger, A More Beautiful Question Dorothy Strachan, Making Questions Work If you can read just one book on creating learning that sticks: Peter Brown, Henry Roediger and Mark McDaniel, Make It Stick If you can read just one book on why you should appreciate and marvel at every day, every moment: Bill Bryson, A Short History of Nearly Everything If you can read just one book that saves lives while increasing impact: Michael Bungay Stanier, ed., End Malaria (All money goes to Malaria No More; about $400,000 has been raised so far.) IF THERE ARE NO STUPID QUESTIONS, THEN WHAT KIND OF QUESTIONS DO STUPID PEOPLE ASK?

The relevance of these special properties of the hippocampus and their role in map learning comes from a consideration of the massive upsurge in our use of technology for wayfinding. By focusing on the blue dot of a phone map, rather than looking about at our surroundings and making the effort to form a genuine map, we are short-circuiting the processes that we've learned to use over previous millennia. As far as finding our way is concerned, we have become striatal stimulus-response machines, racing through time and space like feverish maze mice hunting for cheese.

The linear size of a neuron varies widely from one nerve cell to the other, since some of these cells are contained in closely integrated large aggregates and have, therefore, very short axons, while others conduct pulses between rather remote parts of the body and may, therefore, have linear extensions comparable to those of the entire human body.

A team of scientists at the California Institute of Technology (Caltech) designed an ingenious experiment to determine if humans could detect energy fields similar to those of the earth. They hooked participants up to EEGs and confined them in a shielded room, screening out virtually all known sources of energy and radiation. They created a magnetic field generator that precisely mimicked the earth’s field. They then varied the direction of the magnetic field unpredictably, in very short bursts of one-tenth of a second. That’s too quick to be consciously detectable. The EEG recorded changes in brain wave amplitudes and frequencies throughout the experiment, which was repeated up to 100 times per subject. The investigators found drops in alpha waves of up to 60% whenever they changed the direction of the field. They conclude that “the human brain can detect Earth-strength magnetic fields, demonstrating that we have a sensory system that processes the geomagnetic field all around us.” The Caltech authors also noted: “We’ve known about the five basic senses: vision, hearing, touch, smell, and taste since ancient times, but this is the first discovery of an entirely new human sense in modern times.

At least one version of quantum theory, propounded by the Hungarian mathematician John von Neumann in the 1930's "claims that the world is built no out of bits of matter but out of bits of knowledge-subjective, conscious knowings," Stapp says. These ideas, however, have fallen far short of toppling the materialist worldview, which has emerged so triumphant that to suggest humbly that there might be more to mental life than action potentials zipping along axons is to risk being branded a scientific naif. Even worse, it is to be branded nonscientific. When, in 1997, I made just this suggestion over dinner to a former president of the Society for Neuroscience, he exlaimed, "Well, then you are not a scientist." Questioning whether consciousness, emotions, thoughts, the subjective feeling of pain, and the spark of creativity arise from nothing but the electrochemical activity of large collections of neuronal circuits is a good way to get dismissed as a hopeless dualist.

These practices are introduced sequentially, beginning with short periods of silent reflection, extending to longer periods of mindfulness practice, and finally including activities that bring mindful awareness into everyday activities such as standing, walking, and role plays of challenging situations.

Dr. Gael Chételat, the coauthor of the study, echoing what I’ve been saying for many years. “Looking after your mental health is . . . not only important for people’s health and well-being in the short term, but it could also impact your eventual risk of dementia.

I think that all that time I’d spent accepting the fact that I was already dead made me sort of a walking zombie among the living back home. Every person I looked at I would see as horribly disfigured, shot, maimed, bleeding, and needing my help. In some ways it was worse than being in Iraq, because the feelings were not appropriate to the situation and because I no longer had my buddies around to support me emotionally. I spent a good deal of time heavily dependent on alcohol and drugs, including drugs such as Clonazepam prescribed by well-meaning psychiatrists at the VA, drugs that were extremely addictive and led to a lot of risky behavior. However, I still had a dream of learning how to meditate and entering the spiritual path, a dream that began in college when I was exposed to teachings of Buddhism and yoga, and I realized these were more stable paths to well-being and elevated mood than the short-term effects of drugs. I decided that I wanted to learn meditation from an authentic Asian master, so I went to Japan to train at a traditional Zen monastery, called Sogen-ji, in the city of Okayama. Many people think that being at a Zen monastery must be a peaceful, blissful experience. Yet though I did have many beautiful experiences, the training was somewhat brutal. We meditated for long hours in freezing-cold rooms open to the snowy air of the Japanese winter and were not allowed to wear hats, scarves, socks, or gloves. A senior monk would constantly patrol the meditation hall with a stick, called the keisaku, or “compassion stick,” which was struck over the shoulders of anyone caught slouching or closing their eyes. Zen training would definitely violate the Geneva Conventions. And these were not guided meditations of the sort one finds in the West; I was simply told to sit and watch my breath, and those were the only meditation instructions I ever received. I remember on the third day at the monastery, I really thought my mind was about to snap due to the pain in my legs and the voice in my head that grew incredibly loud and distracting as I tried to meditate. I went to the senior monk and said, “Please, tell me what to do with my mind so I don’t go insane,” and he simply looked at me, said, “No talking,” and shuffled off. Left to my own devices, I was somehow able to find the will to carry on, and after days, weeks, and months of meditation, I indeed had an experience of such profound happiness and expanded awareness that it gave me the faith that meditation was, as a path to enlightenment, everything I had hoped for, everything I had been promised by the books and scriptures.

When we learn about threats as children, and they are accompanied by strong emotions such as fear, they can remain embedded in the neural circuits of the hippocampus for life. Neuroscientists call these “deep emotional learnings.” Like the old posters, they may have no use in the present. They may even be triggering us to react to threats that are entirely imaginary. Yet once learned, and reinforced by conditioned behavior, they are hard to change. Like the dusty posters in the pubs, they may hang around long after they’ve outlived their usefulness. When the hippocampus isn’t sure what to make of a piece of information, it refers it to the brain’s prefrontal cortex (PFC). That’s the brain’s executive center, the seat of discrimination and knowledge. It takes incoming information from the hippocampus and determines whether the apparent threat is real. For instance, you hear a loud bang and are immediately alarmed. “Gunfire?” wonders the hippocampus. “No,” the PFC tells it. “That was a car backfiring.” The reassured hippocampus then does not pass the alarm to the amygdala. Or perhaps the PFC says, “That group of young men hanging out in the parking lot looks suspicious,” and the hippocampus then signals the amygdala, which puts the body on Code Red. Using that path from the emotional center of the brain to the executive center is crucial to regulating our emotions. Because it involves a feedback loop with information going first to the PFC and then back to the hippocampus from the PFC, it’s called the long path: hippocampus > PFC > hippocampus > amygdala > FFF. The long path is the default for people with effective emotional self-regulation. 3.8. The long path. 3.9. The short path. In people with poor emotional self-regulation, such as patients with PTSD, this circuit is impaired. They startle easily and overreact to innocuous stimuli. The hippocampus cuts out the PFC. Instead of referring incoming threats to the wise discrimination of the primate brain, where the bang can be categorized as “car backfiring,” the hippocampus treats even mild stimuli as though they are life-threatening disasters and activates the amygdala. This short-circuit of the long path creates a short path: hippocampus > amygdala > FFF. The short circuit improves reaction speed, but at the expense of accuracy.

If your long path is short-circuited by stress, and your brain is using the short path instead, you might be so alarmed at the mere thought of a shark that you have a panic attack just thinking about taking a swim in the ocean. All the body’s machinery of FFF then gets engaged by this imaginary threat, just as if you were nose to nose with Jaws. Your gut clenches, your heart races, your breathing becomes fast and shallow, and your focus narrows to the point where you can’t think about anything other than the threat. This takes a huge biological toll on the body. High adrenaline produces dramatic reductions in life span. Stressed people have much more disease and live much shorter lives than unstressed people. Whatever form stress takes—depression, anxiety, or PTSD—correlates with higher rates of cancer, diabetes, and heart disease. The deficits in the life spans of stressed people are measured in decades rather than years. In meditators, the amygdala is quiet. It becomes even quieter with practice. The difference in amygdala activation between the longest-term meditators and their less-experienced peers has been measured. The adepts show 400% less reactivity to stressful events. But even in novices who practice mindfulness for 30 hours over 8 weeks, decreased amygdala activity is found. Other structures within the midbrain or limbic system work together with the hippocampus and amygdala. One of them, the thalamus, is like a relay station. Close to the corpus callosum, it identifies information coming in from the senses like touch, hearing, and taste, and directs it to the consciousness centers of the prefrontal cortex. The thalamus typically becomes more active during meditation, as it works harder to suppress sensory input (like “that buzzing mosquito” or “this chair is too hard”) that pulls us out of Bliss Brain. With the hippocampus regulating emotion, the thalamus regulating sensory input, and the long path in good working order, stress-inducing signals aren’t sent to the amygdala. In turn, all the body’s FFF machinery remains offline. This produces corresponding biological benefits. Heart rhythm is even. Respiration is deep and slow. Digestion is effective. Immunity is high. That’s why so many studies show pervasive health and longevity benefits among meditators.

The conclusion is that what brain images show us is the state of the brain when people are in particular mental states. They do not necessarily tell us why they are in those states.

When practicing mindfulness, we’re not trying to control, suppress, or stop our thoughts. We don’t want to push our thoughts away (it’s not even possible to do so). Rather, mindfulness helps us pay attention to our experiences as they arise, without judging or evaluating them in any way.

As you lean into your mindfulness journey, there is no such thing as getting better. There is going deeper, however, meaning establishing a deepening intimacy with your own intrinsic ability to pay attention on purpose, in the present moment, and without judgment, even when life is challenging.

Remember, gentleness is the bridge between you and your mindfulness practice. Stay gentle, gentle, gentle with yourself, here, now, and beyond

Mindfulness practice can provide you with quick calm, if you are open to it. Too, practice itself is a call to action toward a lifelong relationship with mindfulness.

From prehistoric cave paintings to the map of the London Underground, images, diagrams and charts have long been at the heart of human storytelling. The reason why is simple: our brains are wired for visuals. ‘Seeing comes before words. The child looks and recognises before it speaks,’ wrote the media theorist John Berger in the opening lines of his 1972 classic, Ways of Seeing[1]. Neuroscience has since confirmed the dominant role of visualisation in human cognition. Half of the nerve fibres in our brains are linked to vision and, when our eyes are open, vision accounts for two thirds of the electrical activity in the brain. It takes just 150 milliseconds for the brain to recognise and image and a mere 100 milliseconds more to attach a meaning to it[2]. Although we have blind spots in both of our eyes – where the optic nerve attaches to the retina – the brain deftly steps in to create the seamless illusion of a whole[3]. As a result, we are born pattern-spotters, seeing faces in clouds, ghosts in the shadows, and mythical beasts in the starts. And we learn best when there are pictures to look at. As the visual literacy expert Lynell Burmark explains, ‘unless our words, concepts and ideas are hooked onto an image, they will go in one ear, sail through the brain, and go out the other ear. Words are processed by our short-term memory where we can only retain about seven bits of information…Images, on the other hand, go directly into long-term memory where they are indelibly etched[4]. With far-fewer pen strokes, and without the weight of technical language, images have immediacy – and when text and image send conflicting messages, it is the visual messages that most often wins[5]. So the old adage turns out to be true: a picture really is worth a thousand words.

From the wheel to the steel - from papyrus to kindle - from churchbell to doorbell - from holy books to comic books - from monotheism to secularism - from fundamentalism to humanism - from steam engine to jet engine - from cave painting to apple pencil - from antibiotics to antipsychotics - from embroidery to surgery - from moving pics to netflix - every single feat that we can think of, good or bad, is born of the neurons. In short, neurons can make the world or break the world.

At the end of the day I'm a behaviorist, and my mission is, not a world rooted in pure logic, nope - my mission is a world rooted in hearty logic and mindful fiction. So naturally I'm not gonna speak the lingo of any particular school of thought, intellectual or theological - rather, I speak in a manner, meant to bring out the best in people from all denominations across the spectrum. In short, there is purpose behind my every phrase, every idiom, every tone, tune, and rhythm - my goal is to engender neither science nor faith, but to establish universal assimilation. To understand me, you have to listen as a human, not as believer or nonbeliever, but as human.

Take a short 15- or 20-minute walk today. Pay attention to your senses. What do you see, hear, and smell while walking?

In one study, scientists concluded that even a short-term practice of mindfulness can alter the brain's ability for increased conflict resolution and emotional control (Tang et al., 2012). Since neuroplasticity, or brain plasticity, means that our brains are capable of changing to adapt or respond to internal and external stimuli, the mindful practices we incorporate can have lasting effects on our perception (Puderbaugh & Emmady, 2023).

The brain's response to a drug is always to facilitate the opposite state. Therefore, the only way for any regular user to feel normal is to take the drug. Getting high, if it occurs at all, is increasingly short lived and so the purpose of using is to stay above withdrawal.