Volume 7, Number 2, March 2008

 

Quote From Moshe:  “…very often there are better ways of thinking which open up new vistas and make the unthinkable real and put the impossible within our grasp.”  The Elusive Obvious, p. 122

 

Talking About Silence

 

Jill Bolte Taylor is a brain specialist who had the powerful experience of losing her own brain function and being able to pay a scientist’s attention as it happened.  She describes this remarkable occurrence in a lecture which you can download at http://blog.ted.com/2008/03/jill_bolte_tayl.php#more.

She had a stroke caused by a massive clot on the language side of her brain.  Over the next four hours, she lost her ability to move, to talk, and finally to think about the past or the future.  While she found the experience frightening, Taylor recounts that she was also exhilarated.  Imagine what it would be like to be totally disconnected from your brain chatter that connects you to the external world…I felt lighter in my body. And imagine all of the relationships in the external world and the many stressors related to any of those, they were gone…imagine what it would feel like to lose 37 years of emotional baggage! I felt euphoria.”

In the end, she was rushed to a hospital where doctors removed the clot.  It took her eight years to completely recover to the point where she can speak normally.  But in recalling that moment of clarity, she considers it a kind of Nirvana.  She theorized that if she could reach Nirvana, then anyone can.  I believe that the more time we spend choosing to run the deep inner peace circuitry of our right hemispheres, the more peace we will project into the world and the more peaceful our planet will be. And I thought that was an idea worth spreading.”

            Quite so.  But what’s keeping us from running this inner peace circuitry?  I think it’s the temptation of language itself.

            Robin Dunbar, in his book Grooming, Gossip, and the Evolution of Language makes an interesting case for the use of words in the human species.  Fifty-thousand years ago, we had no language.  We operated like all the other non-linguistic creatures on this planet, where every creature in the community groomed every other.  This kept the community together.  Language may have been a tool which enabled us to unify a community far beyond the limits of grooming routines.  Larger communities can overcome smaller ones in the battle over resources such as food and water.  Language may have been the key to our present dominance on this planet.

            But language clearly has a downside.  The part of the brain that uses language is the part that creates boundaries, that sets us apart from one another and keeps us from feeling the connections between us.  The biblical Tower of Babel myth, in which the oneness of humanity is fragmented by the introduction of many languages, demonstrates this profoundly, but it is easy to see how even two people who share a language can be isolated by it.  “Men and women speak totally different languages.”  “You’re hearing me, but you’re not understanding me.” “My parents just don’t understand what I’m saying.” 

            A great many people are trapped in language.  They cannot understand what they cannot talk about.  If someone uses words they do not understand, even in their own language, they perceive this as a threat.  They are terrified of any means of communication that does not involve words.  They prefer to heighten the boundaries between one culture and another, one community and another, one person and another, and in language itself, one rule and another.

            Language can be used to unify people.  Even so, we cannot rely on language alone to generate connections.  As a tool, it is far too powerful and precise, and when it is wielded more vaguely, as in poetry, it often fails to reach the majority of speakers.   On the contrary, if Jill Taylor’s experience is to be believed, then by purposefully quieting our language center, we can feel a greater sense of connection with the world and a greater sense of peace.

            I remember a particular day while I was in my training to become a Feldenkrais practitioner when a trainer was taking us through a lesson.  He stopped to guide me through a movement sequence where I had gotten stuck.  As I finally found the missing pathway and created a smooth, elegant movement something amazing happened:  The little voices in my head, which go on day and night, stopped suddenly.  I heard nothing.

            The quiet lasted for some time and gave me great relief, but also profound sorrow.  I realized how much of my mental babble was a way of feeling connected to myself, even feeling self-worth.  I had to face the fact that I had value even without my interior monologue, and that is a very hard lesson for me  Eventually my habitual chatter returned, but I haven’t forgotten the experience or the insight.

            As I ponder certain lifelong challenges I face in my life such as impulsive eating, or an inability to keep from picking at my nose and ears, I begin to wonder if these activities are a way for my mind to bring me back to the present moment, when I stray too far away from it.  When I’m binging on food, or picking, I’m totally in the present moment.  Unfortunately these “present moment” activities can be destructive and harmful, but perhaps they are the only way my subconscious mind has of keeping me from losing myself entirely to the past and the future.

            I want to spend more time cultivating a quiet mind.  I don’t want to give up language entirely.  I love words, and I love the way I’m able to think about the past and the future so easily.  But there are times when my passions become obsessions and inner quiet may be the keystone to preventing that arch from collapsing.

            The Feldenkrais Method is designed to transcend language.  Movement is a neutral means of communication.  In ATM lessons, practitioners must use language to speak to a group of people, but the language is often in the form of questions which may generate nonverbal answers.  In FI, language is used far less often.

            The Method has the advantage over other mind-quieting exercises in that it is specifically designed to lead us towards higher organization.  It has a purpose and a direction that keeps us engaged, the way dancing does.  While mind-quieting in and of itself is valuable, we may find the Method to be an acceptable way to experience it for the first, but hopefully not the only time.

           

 

© 2008 Adam Cole