Missing Monkeys

Free-range monkey.

I've been feeling a bit nostalgic for the ol' Happy Homunculus recently.  I'm blown away that almost a year has passed since my last post and I'm starting to feel the itch again to write.

I am also a bit embarrassed that my last post was about barriers to writing and creativity.  Although I am inclined to give myself a pass on this lapse: I did have a son and earn a Ph.D. in the last year (thanks).  But, those excuses are only good for so long.  It's about time to get back on the wagon and start writing.

Moving forward, I am resolving to make the Happy Homunculus a bit more of a cage-free monkey, roaming where the siren song pulls me.

I wish this increase in motivation was from some deep, inner well-spring of mental drive.  Alas, my desire to write again has been inspired by two books I've recently read: "Benjamin Franklin: An American Life" by Walter Isaacson and "Better: A Surgeon's Notes on Performance" by Atul Gawande.  Both books extol the virtues of writing as a means to refine a thought-process and demonstrate the power of the written word for exchanging lasting, important ideas.  I extend my thanks to both Mr. Isaacson and Dr. Gawande for the much needed dissolution of my writer's block.

My Creative Anxiety

What if no one likes it?

For me, the number one barrier to producing anything new or working on new projects that excite me is creative anxiety.  For some reason, the act of trying to create something can be extremely anxiety-producing.    

This blog has been a perfect example of this phenomenon in action. I started off extremely motivated, pumping out post after post, but the entire time there was a nagging uncertainty in the back of my mind.  This version of my Homunculus was fond of terrifying questions like: "Is this really a good idea?", "What if no one likes the blog?", "What if friends, family, or coworkers think you're strange for writing about this stuff?", and on and on.

After time, the initial excitement faded but this nasty, pessimistic voice inside remained.  The inertia waned, and writing ground to a halt.  My last post on the blog was two months ago. And I begin to weep.

However, I take some solace in knowing that I'm not the only one with this issue.  For example, in this great TED talk, Eat, Pray, Love author Elizabeth Gilbert describes one strategy for dealing with creative anxiety: take the pressure off yourself by ascribing creativity to a Muse.  Perhaps a Homunculus would be a better metaphor?  I digress.

Another perspective on this issue comes from Seth Godin in this series on starting a new venture.  I was struck by how Seth kept reinforcing that the essential step in starting a business is to become comfortable putting your idea out in the open.  Fear of judgement or fear of failure are the primary obstacles to starting a business.  In this context, creative anxiety shifts from being a problem of the artists and writers to a real-world problem that gets in the way of our success.

Unfortunately, I don't think there is any cure for this issue.  Rather, I fear we must simply become numb to the difficult emotions and soldier on, working despite the discomfort that comes with being truly creative.  I will try to remind myself that, while the process of creating can be very unnerving, the finished product often makes it all worth it. 

My gut tells me to trust my gut

My gut says: trust your gut!

Is there an optimal strategy for making a big decision?  Should we trust our intuition (our "gut") or should we engage in some methodical, step-wise approach?  You know, writing out the pros and cons.

I care right now because I'm trying to make a big decision: what do I want to do with my life?  Yikes.  So, yeah, I'm interested in learning a bit about how to tackle this.

I stumbled upon research suggesting conscious thought is better in some contexts while intuitive decision-making is better in others.  For example, check out this tidbit on decision-making.  In that example, the conclusion was that experts performed best when they relied on unconscious thinking.  Also, it sounds like expertise became less useful to expert decision-makers when they engaged in a conscious decision making process.

Hmm.  So what does that mean for me?  Here's what my gut tells me to do... When making this very complex decision I will engage in four steps:

1. Collect shit-loads of information - In essence, my goal is to actually become an expert on the topic that relates to the decision.  What are all the variables?  Pros, cons? List 'em out and learn them all.  Gather as much information as possible about the decision and feed it to my brain like some giant super-computer (which is sort of is).  But don't decide immediately.

2. Sleep on it - Next, I let all that information percolate through my nervous system.  It will create new connections and recognize patterns.  I will not be consciously aware of most of this.  Also, getting more sleep will speed the process along and help with fidelity.

3. Repeat as long as possible - Every decision has a timeline.  I will repeat the info-gathering and sleeping steps for as long as possible.  How long can I reasonably delay making the decision?  That may be a decision too, so fold that into the larger decision-making process and keep repeating for as long as is reasonable.

4. Trust my gut - Finally, once I've spent as much time as possible considering all the variables, I will trust my gut.  At the end of that time, my super-computer-like brain will print out a small slip of paper (essentially a fortune cookie) and I will do what it says.

Why does this make sense?  Here's my philosophy: the "conscious" part of our brain is a very tiny part of our brain.  Also, it's evolutionarily new and isn't very good at multitasking.  However, our brain has a lot of processing power that goes on behind the scenes and which contributes to all our decisions and actions.  We ignore all that parallel processing at great risk.

Also, big decisions are very complicated and require an understanding of a lot of moving parts.  While our conscious mind is a shitty multitasker, our brain at-large is great at multitasking (think driving and talking on the phone).  Why not exploit that?

So, that's the plan.  Hopefully it's a good decision...

Forgetting the Krebs Cycle

The product of a google image search of "Monkey Cycle".

I'm in the process of applying to teach a science class, and one of the requirements is to craft a teaching philosophy.  Of course, being so gung-ho about metacognition, my philosophy focused on how I will try to help my students develop transferable skills that could be useful in any endeavor: creativity, communication, synthesis of new ideas, etc.

Naturally, my thoughts then drifted to the Krebs Cycle and how angry it makes me.

What is the Krebs Cycle and why does it make me angry?  Well, unless you are biologist or chemist working on energy metabolism, the Krebs Cycle is not something you need to worry about.  And, that's why it make me angry.  Because I was forced to memorize all the steps of the Krebs Cycle in high school.

Why did that happen?  Why are students all around the country being forced to memorize the details of a chemical reaction that has little relevance to their daily lives?  I'm sure proponents would suggest that it somehow "trains" students to be able to memorize things, but even as a practicing scientist I rarely need to remember some arcane detail to do my job.  Instead, I need to know where to look for an important detail.  Or, I need to have a general sense of how something works in order to make predictions about the system.

Instead, can't we have students memorize things that are more relevant?  Human nutrition, for example, or exercise physiology.  I'm confident most Americans would benefit from a little more knowledge about how to exercise and eat right.  I digress.

Or, better yet, let's get away from this whole memorization thing entirely.  Let's focus on the skills that will help the most people be awesome in the most settings: transferable metacognitive skills.  No more Krebs Cycle.

Is working hard a talent?

Working hard, or hardly working?

Being the best: is it hard-work or talent...  The topic seems to make internet-blogger-types get all giddy with excitement.  O!  The back and forth; the opinions and convictions.  So dramatic, who is right?

Of course, after all that, some wise-ass chimes-in and states the obvious: "everyone is right!"  Buzz-kill; but, true.

Aha! But I have a new, totally fantastic way of thinking about the issue that is certain to make the "Hard Work is King" crowd cringe.  I raise this question: what if the ability to work hard is a talent?

The problem is that all the talking heads out there look at working-hard as something independent of our brains; like hard work isn't a behavior that happens because our brains/minds make it happen.  Whoa, are we saying that our souls have to get involved now and whip up a frothy batch of free-will so that we can work hard and become a bad-ass?  We aren't becoming dualists here are we?

The ability to work hard is just that, an ability.  Working hard takes a ton of cognitive awesomeness, much of which is influenced by both genetics and our environment.  Let's enumerate some of the metacognitive ninja-skillz necessary to work hard, shall we?

First, we must exert significant impulse control, because we can't be distracted by extraneous information and influences.  Second, we must have the ability to recognize errors as they happen and generate creative solutions.  Third, we must demonstrate resilience and optimism so we can overcome our failures and keep working.  Fourth, we must know when and how to seek out the advice and feedback of others so that we don't fall into repeated patterns of behavior.  Fifth, we must have some motivation to work hard, otherwise, working hard is just dumb.

I'm worried about my genes.

Wow, when I spell it all out like that, the simple dichotomy of hard-work vs. talent breaks down.  Instead, hard-work becomes an ability all it's own that is not easily dissociated from a number of underlying cognitive capacities.  Isn't this fun?  Now we can start to ask more specific questions: is impulse control learned or innate?  Is optimism learned or innate?  Yes, the answer to questions like these will be "both", but at least then we can start to tease out strategies for working with what we have.

Maybe one day the debate will end.  Mr. Science will send me a nice letter indicating that I don't have "that gene" and I should give up science and become a monkey-trainer because, by way of some Gattica-like sorting process, that's what I'm programmed to do.  Until then, I can't change my genes, so worrying about "talent" is a waste of my time.  Instead, I'm going to work as hard as I can to improve my ability to work hard, because that's all I can do.

On again, off again

Smug monkey?

I've been all meta-focused: you know, focused on focusing?  And, I've come up with a little hypothesis.  Specifically, if I want to be as awesome as possible at my job, focus isn't just a matter of more is better.  Oh no, no, no, web-buddy. The name of the game is to attain an intensity of focus that is just right for the task: the Goldilocks Zone.... I couldn't come up with a better name.

I mean, sometimes we want to be a laser: when we're doing fine-motor work, or reading, for example.  During these activities, we want to pay some serious attention, because a wandering mind is a liability.  I've already talked about my experience with a wandering mind during fine-motor work, but I think more of us can relate to the effects of a wandering mind when we're reading: that sort of weird, absent-minded state where we "read" a whole lot of material, and then realize that we actually processed zero information.  I've had a similar thing happen to me when I'm driving where I won't remember much of the drive... What is up with that?!

However, at other times, we want our minds to wander.  A wandering mind is the kindling of the creative process.  (Nice metaphor, huh?) When we're trying to deal with complex decisions, or come up with new and inspired ideas, it's time to get our day-dream on.  It's in this state-of-mind where we incorporate all information at our disposal and we stumble on new ways of thinking about big-picture stuff.

Lewd, Crude, and Rude

Never forget.

Let's pick some random things to remember, ok? Some things that are totally unrelated to anything we have going on, but that aren't too interesting by themselves. Today, let's memorize the following items: a paperclip, a box of tissues, a glass of water, three red pens, a paper airplane, a baseball cap, a computer monitor, some high heels, a pack of diapers, and nail clippers. Got it? No? Let's fix that.

Yesterday, we created our first memory palace using our childhood home. The idea was to create a visual structure in our brain and then to exploit that structure to remember a bunch of random schtuff. Our brains are visuospatial machines, and will easily remember stuff if we create a vivid visual, spatial, and experiential image of the things to remember. Today, we're going to combine our memory palace with another memory trick in order to commit the list of objects above to memory. The other memory trick? Memorability.

Some things are just more memorable than others. This is particularly poignant days after September 11th here in the U.S. The emotional nature of the terrorist attacks 10 years ago, the extreme images, the fear, all resulted in rapid, vivid,and long lasting memories. Why? Because all of the neurochemical soup flooding around our brain in that moment was screaming: "important!" So, we remember.

Today, we're going to create faux memorability, in our memory palace, to remember less important things: the ten objects listed at the start of today's post.

Lewd, Crude, and Rude

Task: Memorize the ten objects listed above.

Info: To remember the objects, you will use the two memory tricks we've discussed this far: your memory palace and memorableness. Start walking through you childhood home recalling all the details along the way. Now, as you reach discrete spaces and places in your house, imagine the objects one by one being in different spaces. This is the function of your memory palace. But in addition, imagine a family member doing something strange, awkward, rude, crude, or lewd with each of the objects. Why? To make it memorable! For example, I'm imagining my brother piercing his own ears with a paper clip in my laundry room. I will never forget that image. You try it! Be as creative as possible.

Goal: Memorize all ten objects, in order, using your memory palace and memorableness.

How did it go?  Did it work? If it didn't you weren't being nasty enough!  Visualize your dog taking a poop in a baseball cap on your kitchen counter. A glass of water with an eyeball in it, in your refrigerator.  Really get into it. You'll remember, I promise!

Childhood Home

A typical memory palace.

The place where you grew up - picture it in your mind's eye.  Take a tour, virtually, in your mind, like you are getting home from another day at school.  Picture the entrance, look around.  Take in the details: the carpet on the stairs, the coats hanging on the hooks, the color of the laundry-room door, the shape and texture of the tiles in the hall.  Feel the floor under your feet, the smoothness, the roughness, the pattern, the texture. Make it feel like reality, because this is your first memory palace.

"Uh, what?" Says your homunculus.  "What is this palatial memory-thingy you speak of?"  Fair enough, it may seem like an unusual connections to make between our childhood home and the art of improving our memory, but, hopefully, the link will soon become clear.

It's a memory trick that has been around for centuries, also known as the Method of Loci.  Our brains have evolved to easily memorize complex sensory information, particularly visual and spatial information.  When objects are placed in physical locations, our brains have an uncanny knack for remembering exactly where they are - a critical skill for hunter-gatherer-hoarder-protohumans that need to remember where that mulberry bush is.

This week, we're going to exploit this feature of the human mind by imagining various objects, people, and events in our childhood home so that we can remember them.  Why do we want to memorize these things, you might ask? Well, to prove that we can!  Then, when we really need to remember something, it'll be a breeze.  So, before we get to the real fun, we must prepare a suitable memory palace.

Childhood Home

Task: Imagine a walking tour of your childhood home.

Info: As you go on your virtual tour, try to virtually experience as many details as you possibly can.  Your goal is to create as vivid and realistic picture of your home as possible.  All of these details will be critical for tomorrow's Daily Mind Game, when we will be trying to memorize a short list of random stuff.  The more details the better, so really go to town!  Be sure to incorporate smells, sounds, etc.  The more details, the more connections your brain will be able to exploit during future memory challenges.

Goal: Create a vivid picture of your childhood home incorporating all five senses: sight, smell, sound, taste, and touch.

Still mystified about the purpose of this exercise? Check in again tomorrow for the next Daily Mind Game, to learn more!