There were three: two boys and a girl, obviously bright, interested in life, wanting to make something of themselves, hoping to give back in a significant way. More than a week earlier they had asked to meet with me. I found them stimulating and young. At ages 16 and 17, teetering on the brink of adulthood, their brains were obviously not done yet. However, their energetic enthusiasm filled my office and ricocheted off the walls.
“We have a problem,” said Anita.
“Yeah,” echoed the twins Neil and Nels in chorus.
The problem was that they came from large families of relatively low-economic status. “We have no rooms of our own,” explained Neil. “There’s usually chaos at my house.” His brother nodded vigorously. “And when we finally do go to bed,” Neil continued, “both my older brothers snort and snore like Puff the Magic Dragon. Their room is right across the hall from ours and the insulation just doesn’t cut it.” I had to laugh, unaware that Puff had been either a snorter or a snorer.
“Exactly,” said Nels. “We need space.”
“A place to think,” added Anita. “A place to think and figure things out. I want a room of my own, too, but my two sisters and I have to share a bedroom. It’s pretty tight in there.”
The three glanced around my office. “Not much space here,” said Nels. “Where do you think?”
“In my head,” I said. “I don’t need much space to think.” They laughed but I don’t think they got it. Anita’s next comment confirmed that.
“Well, I need space,” she said. “I need a room of my own with lots of space where I can think!”
Their collective problem took me back. Way back.
Among the writings of Virginia Woolf, one of her most famous is the essay, A Room of One’s Own. Born originally out of concern about the position of women (especially professional women), its bigger picture challenges all individuals. Every person needs a room of one’s own: a place to examine life, to dream, to figure out whom one was meant to be, to plot one’s direction and craft one’s journey.
Philosophers have spoken to the need for self-examination. Socrates reportedly went so far as to proclaim that an unexamined life wasn’t worth living!
I understood what those three young people were saying. You need always to be thinking, exploring. The desired outcome will be to arrive where you began and, perhaps, truly know yourself for the first time. A room of one’s own is essential. Fortunately, it doesn’t necessarily have to be a literal space in your present abode—although that’s ideal. It can be a virtual room, a place to which you can retreat at any time, anywhere.
I’ve had both.
The builder of my childhood home probably never intended the space to be a room, just a pause between the first and second stories. However, jutting out over the back porch, this ten-foot-square landing pad provided a near-perfect retreat for a teenage girl. My personal Camelot.
There was space for a single bed, an apple-box bedside stand, and a small desk with an old-fashioned brass goose-necked lamp. A small birdcage hung from a black wrought-iron stand, home to my beloved green parakeet, Keeto. Three walls were glass: No room for pictures. Double-paned windows in winter; screens for the seemingly way-too-short summer. I thought it hardly worth the labor, taking down the storm windows (washing them was my job) and replacing them with screens.
On mornings when neither rain nor snow pelted the east windows, Old Sol shot its warm rays through Venetian blinds, cozying up the space. Southward, a great expanse of green velvet rambled down to the churning whirlpools of the Red River. Whirlpools in summer, six feet of solid ice in winter. The ice’s break up in the spring probably fascinated me most. Lying in bed I could hear the cracking and crashing, as the huge pieces pummeled against each other.
Northward, wooded hills stretched toward Hudson Bay where I was certain couriers de bois still silently patrolled its lonely shores. Wrapped warmly in a comforter (hot chocolate leaving its ring on the tiny glass-topped desk), I often enjoyed a private viewing of the sunset playing itself out against the clouds or the ballet of colorful autumn leaves. In fall I might even take off on a virtual flight with the Canadian Geese.
And the West. No windows faced west, but that did not hinder my imagination. Something about the West called to me. I sensed that my place was somewhere out West, the land I had so often read about in stories and books. A place where uniqueness was valued, differences minimized. (It took several decades for me to reach the West—literally.)
And then our family moved to a new home, thousands of miles away in another country. The room of my own vanished with the miles.
Initially, like a fish out of water in the new environment (my brain’s opinion), I felt discouraged, devastated, even depressed. One evening, after a particularly harrowing day (again, my brain’s opinion), for the first time I went back in memory to my Camelot-landing. In an attempt to forget the present, I pulled up in my mind’s eye every detail in that room of my own. And in doing so, more details popped into my memory until it seemed as if I were once more actually there.
Those few minutes changed my life: I learned that my brain could create a virtual room in my mind at any time and in any place. A room of my own that could and would go with me no matter where I roamed across the planet.
“I get it,” said Nels. “A virtual room.”
“That’s doable,” said Neil. “Instead of staying up late waiting for some peace and quiet, I can just go to bed and be in my virtual room.”
“That would only work in my house if I wore earplugs,” said Anita, voicing a common gender difference. (Males often focus more effectively when there is some distraction in the environment; females often do better in a quiet environment.)
Opening a desk drawer I retrieved a bottle of soft foam earplugs. Psychedelic green and orange. “Here you go,” I said. “Take your pick.” I smiled over at Neil. “Earplugs may not completely eradicate the sounds of Puff-the-Magic dragons, but they may dampen the snorting and snoring to a more manageable roar.”
They each chose a pair and left my office laughing. “Could we come back next week again,” they wanted to know, “just to check in sort of?” Of course they could.
A room of one’s own. For some the concept is nebulous and theoretical, a puzzle, or even a ridiculous metaphor. For others, it is clear, concrete, and creative.
Some say, “There isn’t a chance!” or “Not in my lifetime!” or “Boy, do I wish!” Others jump at the opportunity and make it happen. I had no doubt that these three would do just that.
Do you have a room of your own? It’s a must! Literal or virtual—no matter. Either way, it’s a gift you give yourself. Ah, yes. In my old room that wasn’t really a room—I could dream. Oh, how I could dream! In that room of my own I began to learn that there are always options, that everything is possible in some form or another, that the impossible just takes a little longer, that scarcity can be turned into abundance if you are really committed to making that happen, and that when one door closes there is always another open door somewhere if you just turn your head and search for it.
Hmmm. I think I’ll take a short break and go back to that virtual room of my own for a few minutes, right now.
It all began with two incidents on the same day. First, I opened an envelope to find three hand-written pages of tightly-spaced words (some so tiny I had to use my magnifying glass) that read, in part:
After being out of work for several months, I enrolled in career-training. Our last assignment was to visualize a new product label and transfer it to paper. I dropped out. I’m not interested in classes filled with gobbledygook psychobabble.
Chuckling, I began writing a reply: “According to Dr. Newberg, author of How God Changes Your Brain, even when asleep, visual representations of the universe remain active in the brain….” My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my office door. The caller, Larry, said his visit was to set me straight about visualization. “It’s clearly of the devil,” he said. “I’m surprised you don’t know that. I never visualize and never will.”
“I think you may be confusing the ‘spirit practice known a visualization’ with the ability of the human brain to make mental pictures in the mind’s eye.” I said. “Can you recognize your mother by sight?” Larry’s response could have prompted an observer to wonder if I’d said something really derogatory. When he had stopped sputtering, I asked, “Can you see your mother’s face in your mind’s eye now?”
“Of course,” Larry shouted. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Deciding it would be advisable to avoid answering that question, I explained that he had just exercised his brain’s ability for internal mental picturing. Larry’s confusion was palpable. “If your goal is never to mentally picture, you’ll have a fight on your hands,” I told him, “because that’s what the brain does. It turns everything you think, see, and hear into internal mental pictures.”
“B-b-but,” Larry sputtered, “how can that be? Visualization is new age. I’m sure of it.”
“Visualization is old age. It stems from ancient spiritualistic practices, That’s one reason I prefer using the term ‘mental picturing’ to avoid confusion with that ancient practice,” I replied.
The verbal to image simply means “to call up a mental picture.” Mental imaging, describes the process of creating a picture in your mind’s eye of something that is not currently and concretely present in your field of vision. It may be a representation of something you have actually seen (e.g., an elephant) or something that you have never seen (e.g., an elephant with purple spots). Because it happens so automatically, many people take this ability for granted and often don’t think about it consciously. For example, your phone vibrates with a call from a good friend and up pops a mental image in your brain of the person.
This natural brain phenomenon has been around since there was a human brain. You picture things in your mind’s eye all the time. That’s how the brain was designed to function, to create internal mental pictures of what you think, see, and hear. The only thing new age involves brain-imaging studies that have discovered that the right cerebral hemisphere, the Envisioning division in particular, appears to control one’s ability to make mental pictures in their mind’s eye and then create something new such as a painting, sculpture, a building, or any number of things. Studies suggest that most successful people, regardless of their field of expertise, demonstrate the right brain ability of internal mental picturing.
For example, perhaps you are taking a group of students on a field trip. A student says, “I’d like an ice cream cone.” To be sure, a mental picture of an ice cream cone is flashing in that person’s brain. You ask, “Do you prefer plain or waffle cones?” as the brain creates pictures of both types.
Maybe you have invited a dozen people over for dinner. While setting the table, you picture the face of each person as you decide where to put name cards.
Then there are vacations. All things being equal, you usually end up in places you have spent time thinking about and have some preconceived ideas of how things will look. When you actually arrive at the destination and compare your expected mental pictures with actuality, you may find that some aspects are a match and some aren’t. Some are better and some are not so good.
“Well,” Larry continued, “visualizing involves coming up with something completely new, and that’s dangerous.
Needless to say, it didn’t go over well when I asked if his mother’s face, which he had just seen in his mind’s eye, was completely new. Many new ideas are simply an extension or variation of what you already know. They could also result from looking at what you know in a different way.
“Okay, so how would I appropriately use what you say my brain does anyway?” Larry asked.
Immediately I thought of a favorite game from childhood that I had loved and played often in the car as our family rode from one place to another: I spy with my little eye something that begins with _________ (a letter of the alphabet).
I remember liking the letter “c,” probably because it can be an “s” sound (cent, city, celery) or a “ch” sound (church, cheese, chicken) or a “k” sound (cake, candy, camera).
“Did you ever play the game of I spy iwith my little eye, Larry,” I asked. He nodded. “So think of it as playing a game with your brain. Try ‘I spy with my little eye,
Larry left my office scratching his head and mumbling that he’d have to think about this topic a bit more before he made up his mind. Closing the door I picked up my chuckle where I’d left off.
Studies have shown many benefits from internal mental picturing.
Long before the advent of moving pictures, people created their own internal movies. Family members gathered around the radio after dinner or read stories aloud. Their brains created pictures in their mind’s eye of what they were hearing, with unlimited imagination.
Today’s world is quite different, with its emphasis on television, movies, and videos. Those mediums largely promote passive mental picturing, i.e., the brain processes what other brains have already created. Studies have shown that viewing large amounts of television may decrease one’s skills of active mental picturing, a key component of both creativity and problem solving.
Although not composed of muscle tissue, the brain resembles a muscle in terms of function. It strengthens with exercise. Every thought creates a movie in your mind’s eye. In effect, you are your own director, photographer, editor, and viewer. Unfortunately, some use this brain ability in negative ways: rehearsing worry, anxiety, fear, and failure, to name just a few. Others, in positive ways, hone their skills to improve their personal health and well-being and be more successful in life. How are you using the natural brain phenomenon of internal mental picturing? Do you allow it to run away with pictures of anxiety and fear or do you create positive mental pictures?
Such choices are no laughing matter.
“You have no idea how terrified I am!” Karol spoke to no one in particular. She folded and unfolded her perspiring hands as she paced back and forth in the small wide room. Beads of sweat glittered on her forehead. “I just know I’ll forget every single line, be booed off the platform, and spend the rest of the school year in depressed disgrace!”
“Whether you think you’ll fail or succeed, you’re right.” An unprepossessing young man spoke from the corner.
Karol stopped pacing and pinned him with her remarkable violet eyes. “Whatever do you mean, Tim?” she demanded.
In a calm controlled voice, he explained that her words were creating a self-fulfilling prophecy, a picture for her brain to follow. “You can give your brain a positive map or a negative map to follow,” he said.
“Are you nuts?” she demanded. “Why would anyone give the brain a negative map to follow?”
“Why indeed?” Tim replied. “My sentiments exactly.”
Karol resumed pacing, then stopped, looked at Tim intently and asked, “What map do you give your brain to follow?”
Tim smiled. “Actually, I’d be terrified, too, if I told myself what you just said!” His infectious grin took any sting out of his words. “I say: I know my topic. I am recalling my lines. I enjoy sharing my expertise with the audience. They are responding positively.” No sooner had these words left his lips than his name was announced. With a semi salute in her direction, he walked out onto the stage. As I watched him stride confidently into the spotlight, I thought to myself, what wisdom for someone so young. He must have learned that from his role models.
I wondered about Karol. Perhaps her care providers hadn’t known that every thought we think affects every cell in our brain and body. Our thoughts impact our degree of success in any given situation because they create pictures in our brain, a map (as Ted put it) for the brain to follow.
That’s the value of rehearsal. The brain makes patterns from our thoughts, words, actions and behaviors—and goes over them again and again. At time of performance, given you don’t sabotage the pattern with negative words and thoughts of failure or inadequacy, the brain simply repeats the pattern one more time. This is the technique many Olympic champions use just prior to actual competition. They pause for a few moments, often with eyes closed, and mentally rehearse their pattern or map. They picture themselves completing their routines successfully.
Rehearsal can be actual or virtual (in the mind). You can use virtual rehearsal to reinforce actual rehearsal or to prepare when actual rehearsal is impossible.
You rehearse (e.g., imagination, self-talk) continually during waking hours anyway, so you may as well rehearse as effectively and efficiently as possible. The subconscious recognizes little differences between actual and virtual rehearsal. Practice of either type can be effective in helping us to improve our skills.
Researchers gave participants a small, three-dimensional wire grid and recorded neuron activity (PET Scan studies) in their brains, as they handled and played with the grid. Later, each participant was asked to simply recall how he/she had handled and played with the grid. The same portions of the brain were activated during the “thinking about the grid” as were activated during the actual “handling of the grid.” That’s one reason for advice related to “thoughts are powerful—take conscious control of yours!”
Since rehearsal can be actual or virtual—and be effective—you can rehearse in advance even when you have never had the opportunity to actually do the specific activity. Take Karol for instance. This was her first speech in front of a live audience. Noticing that she was number seven on the program to present a 5-minute summary of her topic, I asked her if she’d like to do some virtual rehearsal. The poor girl was in such a state of panic I wasn’t certain she could even attend to my suggestions. On the other hand, there was nothing to lose! She looked at me rather wild-eyed for a moment, and then stopped pacing, and nodded.
After suggesting she take a few deep breaths (she had been breathing very shallowly and holding her breath for several seconds at a time), I asked her to briefly describe the pictures in her mind related to this speaking event. Not surprisingly they were all negative, and ranged from tripping and falling before she reached to podium to being laughed off the stage. Unhelpful!
I challenged her to create a new set of pictures, a new map for her brain to follow. This involved seeing herself:
Her response was a murmured, “Oh my! This must have been what Ted was trying to tell me!” She paused for a moment. “I’m going to try to do this,” she said.
“Say, I am doing this,” I suggested. “Simple, present tense, positive phrases are the most effective. Say, I enjoy making this presentation.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth than it was her turn to present. Karol did a very credible job—after one virtual rehearsal. She was amazed and pleased!
Just as with Emotional Intelligence, Rehearsal Intelligence, or RQ, is a learned skill. You can hone your RQ at any age and use your enhanced skills to help you be more successful—at home, at work, professionally, and personally. You can actually rehearse or virtually rehearse any and all your roles on the stage of life. Here’s to you giving an Oscar-nominating performance. Fortunately, in the Oscars of life, everyone can win!
We’re all stories, in the end.
—Steven Moffat
“My students are always begging ‘Tell us a story,’ to say nothing of my own children who harp on the same string.” Carmen sighed. “As a teacher, I want to teach facts and just the facts! What’s the big deal with stories?”
“Let me share my perception of a story’s importance,” I responded. And once I started, I was on a roll!
“In a word? The brain—at almost any age, in every culture and in every era—loves stories. In fact, the brain is designed to process them. Tiny organs within the emotional layer of the brain are highly attuned to symbolic meanings that come to it through story and metaphor, to say nothing of the brain’s right hemisphere.
“Stories have been told since the dawn of time—not that I was there in every era to hear them myself. Around the campfire. When children were tucked into bed. Stories have been told at times of celebration and ritual, when people were frightened or insecure. Stories: to reminisce, to share personal experiences, to impart gems of wisdom, to entertain, for protection, to treasure generational inheritance, to maintain oral tradition, and to increase bonding between family members and friends.
“All the great philosophers, prophets, poets, writers, musicians, and visionaries have been quintessential storytellers. Remnants of their craft exist today, often in the form of allegories, metaphors, operas, fairy tales, and myths. Think of the new movie Into the Woods. Even country ‘n western songs are musical stories.”
“Interesting,” said Carmen. “My parents loved opera. I was named after an opera, but growing up I thought of opera as music, not as stories. In our family we didn’t read or tell stories, per se.”
“A good story easily enters your memory and may still be there decades later. Those who ignore the importance of story and metaphor do so at their own peril. Stories form the basic fabric for intelligence because they impact how you think and behave. They can help you make sense of the world, relax, reduce stress, and heal. They can give life to past experiences, present situations, and even to a hoped-for future. In fact, you often dream in story format.”
Carmen looked puzzled. “Hmm,” she said, reflectively. “I have no role model for using stories in my teaching. Do you?”
I thought a moment. “The three teachers that made the most indelible positive impression on me all used stories. Sometimes they’d read a story and then we’d discuss it, identifying the lessons that could be drawn. Sometimes they’d tell a short anecdote that went along with the topic under study. I don’t always remember the topic, but I usually can recall the illustration. Often we were asked to write a story and then sometimes share it with class. I still have a few of mine. And if you’re a student of Scripture you’ll recall that it’s filled with stories.”
“Come to think of it, I do recall a few ‘parables’ I learned in Sunday school,” said the teacher. “And city walls falling down. I never thought about it being basically a collection of stories.”
“Think of the Big Picture. Life is a three-dimensional story that you live. Your story differs from anyone else’s on this planet. Because of that, you always have something to share, just as you always have something to learn. Within your life story are myriad short stories that reflect what you did, where you went, what you saw, who you spent time with (or chose not to for a reason), what you accomplished, what mistakes you made, what lessons you learned (or didn’t learn), and what contributions you made on your life journey.”
“My father was an engineer; my mother, a college professor,” said Carmen. “We read ‘information’ and talked about ‘facts and ideas.’ I remember my grandmother reading me a fairy tale—once. My parents told her to read to me, by all means, but only educational stuff. I think my brain must have decided right then and there that stories were not educational.”
“Oh, my!” I exclaimed. “Stories can reach and educate both heart and mind. They can stimulate active mental picturing–as compared with passive picturing that is honed through viewing television and videos. Stories can develop your imagination, an ability that is utilized in a wide range of intellectual activities and required for all types of problem solving. They can offer you a way to look at something from a more objective perspective, especially when a sensitive or problematic area needs to be addressed.”
“I like writing,” said the teacher,” but I’ve always written about ideas. Never stories. I’m known as ‘Miss Information.’ Just today I was using a science handout. You know, knowledge of the physical or material world gained through observation and experimentation. One of my students read it and said, ‘There’s no story to it. It’s so boring.’ I suppose you’ll tell me that if I included a little story about someone who used science or some unusual anecdote about science that my students would like it better.”
“They’d probably enjoy it more and likely recall it better, too. Start writing and telling stories—about ideas. You can build a story around almost any idea: a real happening, something you would like to have happen, or something that might possibly happen, a current news item. Use your imagination.”
The teacher nodded. “That will be a learning experience for me, that’s for sure.”
“Recently the online journal PLoS One reported MRI research portions of the brain that are activated by stories. Scientists from Carnegie Mellon University, led by Leila Wehbe, watched as the words from Chapter 9 of “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” were flashed for half a second onto a screen inside the MRI Scanner. Wehbe wanted to study what happens in the brain while people are reading a story (versus just looking at words or phrases). Chapter 9 was selected because, according to Wehbe, although it contains action and emotion there’s not too much going on for scientists to track.”
I summarized some of the findings:
“I had no idea that reading a story—and I assume hearing a story read, as well—activates the same portions of the brain used when processing life as we observe and interact with others. I appreciate you taking time to share this with me. With my brain, actually.” Her laugh was infectious.
“Stories have been found to play a special role in the development of memory, attention, and reflective thought patterns. They can foster a love for words and a facility with language and bring ideas to life. They can instill character, enhance education, and convey information without seeming to do so. They can also arouse emotion, which is key for learning. Do both your brain and your students’ brains a favor; start including stories in your education toolbox.”
“I am going to do that,” Carmen said, smiling. “Will my students ever be surprised when I begin the first class of next semester with a story. I can just imagine their nerve endings sizzling with shock!”
And they’ll love it, I thought. As Rudyard Kipling once said, “If history were taught in the form of stories, it would never be forgotten.” Probably would also work for science!
In the advent of 20th-century technology and beyond, storytelling—the pure unadulterated sharing of stories with another for the sheer joy of the telling and the listening—sometimes gets left behind in the plethora of sound, sight, and sensation. But the art of storytelling is not lost. It still exists, just waiting for you to take it from the mental shelf of your mind, dust it off, hone it, and access its elegant power to connect and resonate with the human spirit.
Stories are powerful. Read them. Write them. Ponder them. Learn from them. Play and have fun with them. Allow your brain to luxuriate in them. Share them with others. Soak up the benefits they can provide. Make them part and parcel of your life story in your very own way.
Perhaps there is no greater legacy than that of knowing how to tell—and enjoy—a good story. Start now and live happily ever after….
[http://www.cmu.edu/homepage/health/2014/fall/the-brain-and-harry-potter.shtml]
A comedy routine could hardly have been scripted more perfectly. One moment I was chatting with a group of faculty at a table in the college cafeteria; the next I was awash in 20 ounces of very arctic cherry cola that had shot across the table and cascaded into my lap. I gasped. The fact that I was sitting in a plastic bucket chair did nothing to improve the situation. A few titters erupted around the room. Outright guffaws punctuated the titters.
My wool skirt had absorbed the liquid in a nanosecond. Notwithstanding the material was navy blue, if I stood now it would look like an inside job, as my boys used to put it. Brushing half-a-dozen very cold ice cubes to the floor, I looked up into the startled green eyes of a tall young man. Make that a very tall young man. A deer-in-the-headlights look was plastered all over his adolescent face. His body language dripped with horror. He looked down at the floor. He glanced in my direction. He looked back at the floor. His Adam’s apple wobbled wildly as if he would like to say something. No sound emerged.
“It’s not funny,” snapped one of the teachers, grabbing for paper napkins and dabbing at a few drops of cherry cola that had chosen his jacket instead of my lap.
The very tall young man was silent. In his defense, he certainly wasn’t acting as if he thought the situation was hilarious.
“Just look at what you’ve done!” exclaimed another in a rather high-pitched voice. “And to our guest speaker, too!” (Good grief. Could they make the boy feel any worse?)
The young man glanced at the table. Every few seconds a drop of cherry cola left the edge of the table and hit the floor.
“Please sit down,” I said, motioning to the chair beside me. “I sincerely doubt you planned to share your drink with me in such style.” The boy shook his head vehemently and folded himself into the chair.
“Meet Josh, our school’s walking disaster,” said another teacher, stroking his moustache. The boy winced visibly.
“Hi, Josh,” I said, ignoring the teacher’s descriptive. “My name is Arlene Taylor and I’m curious. How tall are you anyway? Personally, I’ve always been too short to reach my own head.”
“Six nine; stocking feet,” mumbled Josh. He glanced in my direction.
Noticing his jacket sleeves ended decidedly above his wrists, I said, “That’s closer to seven feet than six. Any of that growth happen recently?”
“Five inches in three months,” he said, nodding. A rueful expression flitted across his face. “Folks can’t keep me clothed.”
“Five inches in three months is a huge growth spurt,” I said. “I’ll bet your internal brain-map hasn’t yet caught up. No wonder you set your tray down three inches above the table!”
Josh looked at the tray sitting askew on the table. His burger bun was an odd shade of pink.
“And you’re how old?” I inquired.
“Seventeen,” said Josh. “Well, nearly. Birthday’s next month.” (Good grief! The boy’s brain wasn’t even close to being done!)
“What were you THINKING?” It was one of the female instructors.
Josh shrugged.
“You MUST have been thinking something!” said the woman.
Josh shrugged again.
Before the perhaps well-meaning but truly-unenlightened questioner could go on badgering (my brain’s perception) the poor kid, I held up my damp hand.
“Asking Josh what he was thinking is unhelpful,” I said. “His brain is probably downshifted from the shock of losing his cherry cola to my lap.” I looked at Josh. The expression on his almost-seventeen-year-old face was so abjectly pitiful that I burst out laughing. I did try, unsuccessfully, to disguise my outburst as a cough, but quickly gave up and simply hooted.
“I’m really sorry, Ma’am,” Josh said. I was still laughing and for a moment I thought he might actually join in. He didn’t but his facial expression looked a tad little less pitiful.
“But he MUST have been thinking something!” the woman persisted, unsmiling. She was truly missing a great opportunity to boost her body’s immune system function.
“Just, great,” I thought to myself. “Give it a rest, will you? Gravity being what it is, there’s no retrieving the cherry-cola! So what’s the benefit of trying to make the kid feel even worse?”
Aloud I said, “I know what his brain was thinking.” The boy’s head snapped up. “It was probably some variation of I don’t want to dump my drink or I don’t want to act like a klutz or I just know something awful is going to happen because it always does.“
“You nailed it,” said Josh. “How did you know? Are you a mind reader?”
I shook my head.
“And they’re right,” Josh continued. “I am a walking disaster.”
“Au contraire!” I said, allowing some of my French ancestry to surface. “While you are definitely experiencing growing pains, YOU are not a disaster, walking or otherwise. In fact, I quite like your brain.”
What you think can be hugely problematic in relation to the behaviors you exhibit. The brain thinks in pictures. The two subconscious layers, while not able to use language per se, perceive the pictures that thoughts and words create. Problem is that these same subconscious layers tend to miss negatives. So when Josh thinks don’t want to dump my drink, the representation of a spilled drink goes into his brain’s working memory. When he says I’m a walking disaster, apicture of being a klutz (whatever being a klutz looks like to his brain) moves into working memory. The brain makes no judgment about what is in working memory; it does assume that it must be important to you or it wouldn’t be there. In general, the brain tends to pursue whatever is in working memory and tries to make it happen.
“And I’m so determined not to be such a klutz!” sighed Josh.
“Give yourself another ten years,” I said. “Let your brain catch up to your body!”
“Ten years!” said the teacher with the moustache. “The school won’t survive another ten years!” There was a decided twinkle in the teacher’s eye and Josh actually cracked a smile.
“Willpower rarely works well in helping people not do a behavior,” I said. “On the other hand, willpower can help you to energetically pursue and achieve something you do want to accomplish.” It’s reminiscent of the white bear phenomenon as described by the author of White Bears and Other Unwanted Thoughts. According to Dr. Wegner, “To the degree that we can do anything at all on purpose, we do it by willfully moving our attention toward what it is we wish to do.”
“So if I see myself getting safely from the tray line to a table, I might make it?” Josh asked hopefully.
“It’ll be a good start,” I replied. “And your behaviors will likely become less and less klutzy as your brain continues to develop.”
“That and foregoing a 20-ounce glass of liquid refreshment until your brain is done!” This from a rather short and somewhat rotund speaker, the broad grin on his face making it clear that his comment was meant to be humorous rather than sarcastic. “And I am interested in knowing what it’s like to be so tall,” added the speaker. This time Josh did laugh, along with everyone at the table, which did a lot to clear any remaining tension from the air.
“For starters,” said Josh, “when I sit in most chairs my knees wind up near my chin. Very awkward. Quite uncomfortable! And there are some cars I simply can’t fold up enough to sit in.”
That started more banter around the table, much of which was not only quite stimulating but also decidedly funny. The Occupational Therapy instructor asked Josh if he would speak to her class about challenges related to height, a topic she doubted had ever been discussed.
It was with regret that I stood to leave. Josh was on his feet in an instant, towering above me, wringing his hands and asking if there was anything he could do to compensate for his clumsiness. “Heavens no, Josh,” I said. “Just give me permission to retell this experience. It’s a great story.” He would see me safely to my guest room.
On our way out, several people stopped me to express their regret about the accident. A few indicated their surprise that “you don’t seem more upset.” I’ll admit that 30 years ago my response might have been different. (Okay, would have been different.) At this stage of my personal growth, however, I could genuinely respond with, “Accidents happen.” “There’s no real harm done.” “How would my getting upset have helped the situation?” And so on. Josh soaked it all in.
All things considered, what had begun as an unmitigated disaster had turned into a rather positive experience. (My moderately soggy skirt might have maintained a slightly different perspective, had it been capable of speech.) Besides, I had thoroughly enjoyed chatting with Josh. Without the accident our paths might never have crossed. I expect that young man will go far.
What you think does matter. The pictures your thoughts place in working memory impact your behaviors and your communication with others. And willpower works best to help you move your attention and energy toward what you do want to accomplish, rather than what you want to avoid. As my neighbor’s teenager is wont to say, “Well. Duh!”
