Forehead Bulge 2

Insights are sudden moments of lucid understanding that pop into our consciousness. In the past they were perceived to come primarily from divine intervention, but recent brain research shows that certain parts of the brain appear to cooperate, communicate, and dig up the awareness; to bring us insights. I’m not sure but what it might still imply that we get a little help from something greater than we are—call it what you will.

Science researchers have been making fantastic strides in brain studies. Tools like magnetic resonance imaging allow researchers to identify specific parts of the brain that become active when certain cognitive activities occur. It tells us a lot about where in the brain things happen and which parts cooperate to perform various high-level functions. We are developing a wonderful understanding of how this forehead bulge—and all the gray matter behind it—works.

Preparatory to an insight, for example, research has found that the prefrontal cortex—the brain’s conductor—draws upon many corners of the brain. It’s as if the answer is in there somewhere, and has been all along; it just takes the right “search engine” to find it.

It seems to me that there are various levels of insight. Some are quite easily accessible, if we simply are mindful and pay attention to our world. How often do we go around in a preoccupied state of mind, oblivious to what’s happening? Pay attention! Meditative disciplines train us to become mindful, and when we do, lots of modest but insightful wisdom is our reward. It ain’t that hard!

Deeper insights, deeper truths, however, require more work, more discipline. Truths that came to the saints and mystics usually did so after long periods of dedication and devotion. Einstein’s revelations came to a brilliant mind—but only after many hours of grinding effort, followed by a detached state of mind. Jesus came to his insights after wrestling with the problem and then spending many meditative days and nights in the desert.

So insights come in various levels and can be spiritual, personal, or scientific (natural truths). They all entail our seeing some sort of truth—about ultimate reality, ourselves, or the world around us.

A beautiful message I take from the insight process is that it’s accessible to every one of us who carries around that forehead bulge. In that sense, the insights do come from within—we needn’t wait for some authority to tell us the truth, coerce us into believing their spin on it, or lead us into delusion. Yes, we have many wonderful teachings available to us, in the form of writings and speech, but we can also access much truth and understanding from within ourselves.

But within where? Does insight reside predominantly within our brain? The brain seems to know much more than we do, but is it that vast a storehouse? How is the brain related to the mind? The former is stuff, the latter is immaterial. The former is confined to our physical body, the latter is not. If the mind is not bounded by our skin, do some insights arrive via some connection to the universal consciousness, or from God?

Science may be finding some fascinating things about various parts of the brain that light up, but it can’t yet say much about the extent or workings of the mind. All those questions can become a little “mind numbing” to me. The brain—or the mind—doesn’t care what we think or believe about it. It just does its marvelous job, and science sometimes tells us some fundamental things about it. The biggest truths still await our discovery.

Forehead Bulge 1

We humans (I’m presumptuously assuming that it’s only humans who might be reading this) possess something no other creatures have: a bulging forehead that encases the prefrontal cortex (PFC) of the brain. We have the biggest brain (relative to body size) of any living creature on Earth. We are unique. What’s more, the PFC has exploded in size, the last few million years of our evolution. It’s grown six times bigger, while the brain itself has grown only three times. The growth of this forehead bulge is, in fact, almost out of control.

Science still is not certain what the PFC is and what it does. Most basically, it seems to act as the brain’s conductor, or as its executive function. It is in constant touch with various areas of the brain, coordinating and guiding their activities—often without our conscious involvement. The prefrontal cortex is responsible for our higher cognitive abilities, such as planning, discerning right from wrong, moderating social behavior, abstract reasoning, the use of symbols, making choices, and creating (often imperfect) memory.

The PFC integrates the two halves of the brain—effectively balancing the left brain’s analytical and denotative capabilities with the right brain’s intuitive, connotative, and emotional capabilities. When we chew on a problem, the PFC, like the conductor of an orchestra, draws upon various parts of the brain, seeking harmonious answers. It knows best which corners of the brain to probe. It even creates new connections, if need be.

The PFC plays the lead role in the creation of insights—those moments when we have an Aha! experience; when we leap from the bath water, exclaiming, “Eureka!” Many of humanity’s breakthroughs in understanding followed an individual’s long period of puzzling over a problem, with no progress. Stuck. Then, following a period of relaxation or of mundane distraction (while the PFC continued its background search), the answer popped into mind… as if on its own.

Newton, Einstein, and numberless other scientists had such sudden insights. Many saints on the spiritual path experienced similar breakthroughs about ultimate truths. Sophisticated brain research is showing that the PFC, in its conductor mode, literally creates the insight—as it searches diligently and patiently around the brain. Suddenly the symphonic answer comes blasting forth in one glorious trumpet blare.

What is curious about the insight process is that when it comes, there is no doubt but what it’s true. The person having the “Aha” experience is certain the problem is solved. The answer is there. It is simple, elegant, and right. (Note: this is very different from answers we get by dogged analysis. We may reach a solution that way, but we know that it requires thorough checking out, before we’re really sure it’s right.)

The other curious thing is that the “Aha” solution cannot be forced; it cannot be arrived at by a purely intellectual effort. We cannot will the insight to come—it’s as if it’s somewhere in there, waiting to be discovered, but we must let go and open up to it. It is readily available to us, but it will not be manipulated or ordered around. In fact, if we try to bull our way through it, a mental block will be met. It’s fully within our reach, but not our control. It’s grace.

So, does the insight come from solely from within our brain, or must we open to the universal consciousness to receive it from without? Does it come from us or from God? More next time…

Lazy as a Beaver

For many years now we have seen signs of beaver activity, at various spots down along the creek. A dam will appear, then many saplings will get gnawed off, then we might see a very large tree tackled. They really clear out an area of underbrush.

In all that time, I just once briefly spotted a beaver. Just one momentary glance. They are private little critters. I've admired their ability to gnaw big trees down (gracious, what sharp, powerful teeth you have, Mr. Beaver!), to doggedly repair damage after flood waters blast through their dam, then to suddenly abandon their efforts and move on to new locations when the time came (all good trees gone?). But never did I get a chance to get more than a quick glance at one beaver.

Until last year, that is. I meandered down to the creek one day. We were at our driest point in several decades and the creek bed was essentially dry. I was able to walk down the center of the bed of the creek, for the first time since we've lived here. It gives one sort of a beaver's-eye (or a fish-out-of water) view of the area.

I came upon a new dam, that I'd not noticed before. It was a wonderful opportunity to examine the construction of a beaver dam—above water. What marvelous engineers they are! The circular dam wall bowed gracefully across the creek. It was a mixture of branches and rocks. (And one imbedded beer can. Did he can plant itself or get lodged there by one of the dam’s builders?) I was impressed by the size of the many rocks that they had placed on the dam wall, but then remembered that they hefted them there when the rocks were much lighter, under water.

Then a couple of weeks later we got some decent rains, so the creek was once again running a little bit. I wondered how the beaver dam might now appear, so I sauntered downcreek to check it out. The dam was now mostly submerged and the pool behind it had grown. As I approached, I glanced down and saw a beaver, lazily swimming along. I froze, lest it see me and dive. It either didn't notice me or decided that I was no threat, as it continued slowly to swim in circles around its pool. It was a fantastic sight: its cute nose protruding from the surface, sending V-shaped waves outwards, as it swam lazily along. Every now and then I could get a glimpse of its body and a hint of its size. They aren’t small critters!

Suddenly, PLUNK!, it dove under. I thought it had spotted me and had smacked the water surface, in warning to its family and friends, that a two-legged threat was near. But it quickly resurfaced and continued to paddle along, unconcerned.

Shortly, it crawled up on the bank; but down among some weeds, so I could barely see what it was doing. It appeared to be grooming itself. (The next day I returned and got a closer look at the spot and noted many bark-stripped twigs laying around. I'm thinking it was chowing down on lunch.) As I waited to see if the beaver might soon reenter the water, I noted some activity out of the corner of my eye. Another beaver had entered the pool! It began lazily paddling around, as its friend/spouse/relative sat munching up on the bank. Then I saw another beaver, then yet another! There were three of them swimming around, while and one played on land.

What a treat they gave me! After awhile I was beginning to get a little stiff from standing like a statue, so I slowly wandered homeward. The guy/gal on the bank spotted me, slipped ever so silently into the water, then smacked the surface loud and hard, with that flat, leathery tail. It and the other three beavers instantly vanished. I never saw them again.