At the beginning of the summer all of this changed when I decided to re-read* the book Phantoms in the Brain by V.S. Ramachandran. My decision was revolutionary because in this particular book, Ramachandran makes the topic of science an existential one. The book sat on my shelf for ages before I actually read all of it again, but the day I picked it up, I felt I was tossed into a brand new truth-seeking journey that I had never even wanted to be a part of. Using science and poetry combined, Ramachandran's book (in an extremely simplified way) explains tiny pieces of what it means to be a person. Immediately after I finished Phantoms in the Brain, I wanted more. (I learned quickly that any answers found within the world of Neuropsychology come equipped with a bag of questions.) I kept asking myself:
How much of who I am is pre-determined by genetics?
How much of who I am is shaped by experiences?
How involved am "I" in making my own decisions?
Where do my words and ideas and memories come from?
How can I think without knowing how it happens?
How can I move without knowing how it happens?
How can I talk or sing or love without knowing how it happens?
And so the journey began.
In my studies thus far (keep in mind that I'm writing this as a person who has barely skimmed the surface of knowledge to be gained about the complicated machinery of the human mind), I've learned about many unsettling aspects of the brain. What we've always thought of as the soul - ourselves in a cohesive spirit that eventually exists the body - actually comes in damageable, examinable parts. The brain and the mind are one and inseparable. When Phineas Gage was working on the railroad and had an iron rod shot through his frontal lobe, his family members found that he was never quite the same again. He had became angry, short-tempered, and irresponsible. These concepts - the idea that a person can lose such a large portion of their identity simply by damaging a portion of their brain, that the soul can fall apart and break down in pieces - are the most uncomfortable parts of learning the science and philosophy of mind.
But, while reading and reading and reading some more, I've also stumbled upon several interesting studies that reveal the sincerity and beauty of human nature. The pessimists who claim that love is merely lust atop of more lust, for example, are partially mistaken. Love is a messy sea of hormones and emotion and sexual attraction, but it also involves the same sort of deep attachment that occurs when mothers and babies bond. Humans really can need one another; our minds are wired to connect.
And now even evil can be mapped out. The actions of those who have no moral compass, like Ted Bundy and John Wayne Gacy - can be at least explained in part by examining the size and function of the Amygdala (what controls fear and allows us to feel empathy) and the prefrontal cortex (what is most involved with decision-making). Psychopaths can harm others so easily because they do not feel the pain in another person within themselves. Feeling sympathy is impossible. What this means is there is no longer any need to philosophize over the good or evil nature of humans because science shows us people neither good nor evil: we are complex and shaped by the shapes of our minds.
What makes Neuroscience so wonderful is the way it forms an inseparable connection with philosophy and human nature. Love and sadness come in the form of chemicals and hormones; our memories are scattered about everywhere – different types in different places; and a map of all our whole entire body – our fingers and toes and legs and arms - exists on the brain, and little balls of energy that travel at speeds of 90 feet per second tell our bodies how to move.
Still, knowing all this, it's important to keep in mind that so much of science involves the naming and discovering the nature of different elements. Knowing that feeling in love involves the activation of different hormones does not change the nature of being in love. It merely picks apart the feeling and names all the little pieces and explains how they work. People are intricate and beautiful and complex. Language is our invention. It's important to remember that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. In other words, knowing all the parts that make up a banjo or guitar or piano does not change the beauty inside the music they create.
*The first time I read this particular book, I was much too narrow-minded to accept the information being presented, so it never really stuck with me.
