It seems that's what kicked in when I faced that tricky situation on the motorbike. I've heard several similar stories (some mentioned in comments by readers of Part 1) and you may well have experienced the same lack of fear on your own behalf or for others. Suppression of response to its signals allows you to ignore anything else except for the best way to tackle the task at hand.
The amazing thing is this; in some people, that spot in the brain doesn't respond to anything. They have few if any fears about personal safety, they think with utter calm, and they have no conscience. All they know is that they have an objective, and nothing else matters.
These are true psychopaths. They do very well in the military for special ops and in matters where a conscience would get in the way.
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All people with emotions are on the psychopathy scale somewhere. Some of us can damp it down almost to nothing for limited periods, and others can't at all. They're the ones most likely to panic in an emergency.
Dutton allowed an experiment to be performed on his brain, where the amygdala was dampened down electromagnetically so that he could experience what it was like to be a psychopath – for twenty minutes or so. It was, he said, to be "suddenly locked down into a hypnotically deep code red of extreme and ruthless focus."
In tests demanding skill, logic and daring, he performed far beyond anything he'd been capable of before. From that brief experience, he knew what it was like to
...cruise through life knowing that no matter what you say or do, guilt, remorse, shame, pity, fear, all those familiar, everyday warning signals that might normally light up on your psychological dashboard‚ no longer trouble you.
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I remember that feeling of switching off emotions. All I said to Tracey was, "What's the way we deal with this? What are the steps we take now?"
That was it.
For most of the time since, it's been that way. It's not courage or anything like that. It's just that I'm one of those people, probably like you, who doesn't always collapse in a screaming heap when there's an emergency.
Well, not yet anyway. This is going to be tested much more severely.
Afterthought: I should have said when I first posted this that the amigdala in Tracey's brain must be flipping on and off constantly, which, I must say, has been enormously to my benefit.
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http://chronicle.com/article/The-Psychopath-Makeover/135160/
October 22, 2012
"Psychopathy's Double Edge"
By Kevin Dutton
http://tamutimes.tamu.edu/tag/stephen-maren/ [Original brain image, adapted by me.]
psycho 1 | psycho 2
You are FABULOUS! That was my thought when reading this while remembering what you are currently going through.
ReplyDeletePsychopath, hmm. I am clearly not one, since I react with extreme emotion to every, everyday situation, much to my continual exhaustion.But once I was in a canoe on a river with a child in my charge, and we were swept away. Even at the time I was pleased with my calm, logical reactions. I 'saved' us.
So interesting. Isn't the human mechanism extraordinary. Yes, we become calm when in extremis. That is survival, when there is no room for hysterics. At least, I hope so.Perhaps this is the 'higher self' taking charge, rather than the ego driven drama king :) of the 'small self'.
Yes, I'll go with that hopeful thought. Though a psychologist would argue it away ,probably.
Julie M xx
Pretty sure it's not too uncommon. I have the strongest feeling that women have the greater capacity to switch it on and off as required. What do you think?
DeleteWhew!! Glad to know that I am not a psychopath of the dangerous kind. I guess that crying at La Traviata and suffering nervous tension when the podiatrist cuts my toenails (I can't reach them!) are saving graces.
ReplyDeleteThis has been an interesting phenomenon to explore. In some ways a regret, in other ways a relief, to know that I am not alone.
Cheers
Bob
It seems my inner psychopath leapt to life when Carl had his heart attack. I was ruthlessly methodical, getting everything done, emotions under control. And then I dreamt that myself and a male companion locked a 5 year old girl in a room behind a large glass window. The child cried deeply and with abandon as we walked up the street, leaving her behind the glass, alone.
ReplyDeleteThat dream disturbed me, so later, I practised an Active Imagination exercise in which I imagined myself back in the dream. I went into the room where the child was. She was still crying. She looked at me and threw an enormous tantrum on the floor. I said, "Who do you think you are, Linda Blair?" She calmed down. I took her hand and we walked out of the room and up the same street I had previously walked.
I see now that my silenced amigdala, represented by the male figure (repressed emotions, heightened logic) imprisoned my inner child. A necessary act at the time, but not a satisfactory long term solution to difficult problems. After the Active Imagination exercise I dreamt that a dry dam with a cracked bottom suddenly errupted in clear, clean, sweet fresh water and overflowed its banks.
Wow! Is Active Imagination the same as Lucid Dreaming? I seem lately to remember just enough about my dream to know I'd like to recall it.
DeleteActive Imagination and Lucid Dreaming are very different. In Lucid Dreaming you are awake in your dreams. You know you are dreaming and therefore you can act with conscious volition in your dreams. You can talk to dream characters, change the nature of the dream, fly, whatever you want.
DeleteI haven't had a significant lucid dream for years, but while I was doing lucid dream training about 15 years ago, I got quite good at it. Problem was the excercises during the day were taking up too much of my time, so I gave it away.
Active Imagination is a meditation technique developed by Carl Jung. You are fully awake while practising. It allows access to the subconscious processes of your mind that give rise to dreams and fantasies.
For accessing and further understanding dream material, you sit quietly, keeping an aspect of the dream in mind. You then follow that aspect back into the dream, as far as you can remember, allowing you to ask questions of dream characters, witness what else might arise out of the dream material, and basically interact with the dream, allowing further meaning and memory to arise.
You can do the same with imaginative material, following images or feelings back to their subconsious source. Or, you can just sit quietly and allow whatever arises to arise. When an image comes up, you can focus on that image and allow it to "speak" to you.
Basically, in AI you suspend your conscious, literal, logical, ego-focused mind and allow the unconscious to speak to you in the language it knows best -- images, intuitions, feelings, symbols.
Plain old meditation's looking good. :) Thus my limited knowledge of Jung is exposed. He makes good sense in aspects of Indian philosophy but I won't go into it here.
DeleteI picked up ages ago from somewhere the idea that amygdala are almond shaped. I've no idea why I'm slightly disappointed to discover (judging by your diagram) that they are not. I wonder if it is my non-almond shaped amygdala that are responsible for my disappointment at their non-almond shape
ReplyDeleteIn the article, the amygdala were described as peanut shaped. Does this make you feel any better? It may just be a case of mixed nuts. Or packet.
DeleteThere is clearly some mysterious attraction to nuts when humans try to describe their own minds (and of course, as I remember every time I put on my bicycle helmet - the brand is something like 'Nutcase' - that also extends to the brain's container)
DeleteI'd rather have an almond brain than a peanut brain. I'll stick with the almonds.
ReplyDeleteDon't try coconut.
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