I love that about art. I love how art makes a mirror of the human condition that offers us a unified vision in which whoever we are, and wherever we come from, each of our hearts is seen and welcome.

Artists throughout time and around the world have used their creative process to endure and overcome their challenges. From poverty to illness, abuse to discrimination, loss and injury to chronic depression -art forged of hardships becomes a beacon of empathy and resilience.

That’s why, in the final post for this series, I’m closing with an overview of art’s applications: to nourish and guide the heart’s evolution.

So far we’ve looked at the science behind why love’s hard. And, we’ve established that, even though love’s hard- it’s worth it. Now, in this final post, I offer tangible tools to help us through it. If humanity’s heroic call is to evolve our love into universal stages, then we need some tools to help us with it.

Enter art.

Enter the voice of Tina Turner1, who never let abuse deter her. Beaten and battered but never defeated -enter what love has got to do with it.

Enter the heart of El Divo de Juárez2, who tenderly held us without any bias. With nothing in pocket but love and sequins -enter the hymn of heartbreak and healing.

Enter the eyes of Margaret Keane3, who found a way for her love to be seen. Hidden and isolated, but never erased -enter the courage of an honest face.

Enter the gentle hands of Hafiz4 who found life and light inside of grief. Even in exile, and even in loss -enter the beloved of longing and awe.

Enter the spine of Shi Tiesheng5, who found a way for us all to belong. Paralyzed in body but never ill-hearted -enter the grace of a loving presence.

Enter the bravery of Mark Twain6, who refused to make his brother a slave. Despite every pressure to shackle and cage -enter the courage to liberate.

Enter the “Great Nature” of Obata7 that could not be contained by schemata. Beyond the prison of discrimination -enter the landscape of inner-freedom.

Enter the caged bird who continues to sing. Enter the pain that became a painting. From Maya8 to Frida9, enter the art of turning tragedy into the start of a world where love has become the compass:

through all our flaws, and with all our forgiveness,

enter the beauty of being human.

(to learn about the artists that I name in this post, read the footnotes).

In this post, I’ll share how the arts can heal our hearts. For over a decade I’ve been developing an approach to artistry that’s designed to grow love and peace. This approach has drawn on:

• my credentialing as a teacher, where I learned the basics of social, emotional and cognitive development.

• my interdisciplinary studies in psychology, sociology, and language (as my majors in college)

• my training and experience in facilitating community arts for personal and collective transformation

• my credentialing in hypnotherapy, which showed me two important things: how our lives can change when change how we see our history, and how we can use repetition, color, sound, shape and symbol therapeutically

• my experience as an activist, in which I realized that the peace that I make within me, and within my family, is fundamental to the peace that I make in my community, and globally.

• and Something Else that I can’t explain, but that guides me in love, everyday.

Most importantly, I’ve developed my creative practice through the artistry of my own transformation, which has included overcoming debilitating anxiety and depression.

(Note: this post is not meant to substitute for licensed mental heath support).

That being said, before I get into the all nerdy science, let’s define some core components:

Firstly, what do I mean by the arts?

(cuz, like love, lots of people have lots of ideas about what art is and isn’t)

In this post I’ll be talking about both making and witnessing art. The first part is about the benefits of making art (for the artist), and the conclusion is about art as a service (to the audience).

In any case, when I talk about the arts in this post, I’m specifically talking about reflective arts, which are any creative act that’s meant to reflect the-life-experience with love.

Reflective arts are often related to stories. Sometimes these stories are told directly (like in songs, novels or movies), while others are told indirectly (like in paintings or poems that trigger memories). In any case, stories are an essential part of reflective arts because they help humans understand who we are10.

With that in mind, reflective arts can be done by anyone. You don’t need to consider yourself creative or talented. You don’t need training or recognition. Frida Kahlo, for example, was a self-taught artist11 whose paintings were initially rejected1213.

Furthermore, as reflective arts are process-based, you don’t need to share the art that you make (though, if you do, it’s likely that others will benefit too). Emily Dickinson14, for example, didn’t publish her poems while alive, but they revolutionized poetry after she died. Vincent Van Gough15 only sold a few paintings in his life, but his work inspired expressionism after he died.

With this in mind, while great products are often created from reflective arts, that’s not the point. Instead, the purpose is to use the process of reflective arts to create love and peace in our lives. Here, tangible works (such songs, stories, poems, and pictures) are tools or relics of our journeys where the real product is the impact: the conflict that we navigated better than before; the confidence we had to knock on the door; the courage we found to say no sometimes; the wealth we created when we shared our prize; the tired moments when we didn’t lose heart; the mercy we found when we fell apart; the love we felt when we looked in the mirror; the peace we made in coming together.

That being said, it feels important to appreciate the fact that not all art is aiming for the nerdy evolution of the heart, nor is it all centered in story. Indeed, different art serves different purposes, such as to entertain, expose, reveal, or challenge. As each purpose has its own methods, my approaches may not apply to every intention (and I certainly don’t consider them overarching measurements).

With that in mind, if you’re an artist already, I kindly ask you to resist using what I’ve written here to evaluate what you’ve already created (which I’m sure is fantastic!). I’m confident that what you’ve made has served a worthy purpose.

Instead, I offer these creative perspectives and approaches:

1. To provide hope for those of us who struggle with love (for ourselves or others). Though love is an awesome mystery (who knows why Cupid strikes), we don’t have to wait around for love to fall from the sky. There are practices that help our hearts, which happen to be fun, and full of art.

2. For my niece and nephew (and everyone who’s newly called to the arts), I’ve written this post to give a head start. Though technique and performance are often taught in schools, I also want to provide psychological tools.

3. For folks who are already artists, I aim to reflect the value of creative work. As the arts are often overlooked as an essential social service, this post provides proof (that’s scientific) that the arts are essential to growing peace: between cities and countries and the birds and the bees; between black and white and the sky and sea; between up and down, and between you and me -artists breathe life into love and peace.

That being said, one of the things that I love most about making art is the mystery of it. Though this post enthusiastically shares the science behind what makes the arts effective, science has yet to explain the mysteries of the creative. Indeed, the origin of new ideas remains unknown: we can see where they happen in the brain, but we don’t know how. That being said, I cherish the mystery of creativity, and aim to support our creative inklings.

Now, what do I mean by heroic hearts?

If you’re new to this series, you can get a much better idea of what I mean by heroic hearts by reading the previous post.

Still, to review, the heroic heart is one that:

• Finds a way to make the best out of every situation; it is resilient.

• Evolves itself to overcome the heart’s mammalian limits.

That being said, heroic love is the evolutionary feat of our species to love universally in the name of peace. It says that though we have been wired to fight, we still can create love in our lives. Has any other species evolved so purposefully? So far, there’s only been speculation. But we have the opportunity to write to history as a species who shaped our love so completely that all of life thrived in our wake.

Finally, what do I mean by peace?

Peace, like love, can be tricky to define as it exists within the complicated web of life. With this in mind, what feels like peace on one scale might not feel so peaceful on others. For example, on the largest scale, the definition of peace is pretty straightforward: it’s life thriving in harmony with all of its pieces, through all of its endless changes and challenges. But on a smaller scale, do lizards thrive when they’re eaten by a hawk? What’s peace for baby bunnies when they lose their mom?

With that in mind, the nitty-gritty of peace can get tricky because peace can be paradoxical: On the one hand, peace is surrender. It’s the ultimate acceptance of life, just as it is. On the other hand, it’s resistance, the total rejection of life’s injustices.

To know when to accept and when to resist is one of the heart’s greatest challenges.

Furthermore, within interconnected systems, creating peace can be challenging because war on the littlest level can cause ripples of war throughout (such as the wars that are born of the wars that we wage with ourselves). But, thankfully, the opposite is also true: as we make peace within ourselves, the peace we make ripples, not in direct conflict with those who fight, but through the interconnected osmosis of life.

As such, what I love about art is that it has the power to bring the two hands of peace together: to love and accept ourselves (and life) just as we are, and to nourish our growth to become brighter than stars.

Now, with those definitions clarified:

the science of

How the Arts Make Heroic Hearts

True to my ultra-nerdy form, let’s explore how making art can empower heroic hearts through the lens of science. While, for many years, I made transformational art intuitively, understanding how it works scientifically has significantly increased my art’s effectiveness, my creative confidence, and my sense of purpose (as I’ve devoted my entire life to the craft of love and peace). With that in mind, in this post I share the science behind how the arts support heroic hearts with stress relief, emotional intelligence and neuroplasticity.

The Stress Relief of Making Art

We’ll start with stress relief because it is, perhaps, the most fundamental way that making art can support heroic hearts. As our ability to love is significantly challenged by stress, reducing stress significantly supports our ability to love (read more about how stress affects our hearts in the third article of this series, The Hard Feelings of the Hardened Heart).

With this in mind, making art (in general) reduces stress16 17by:

• Increasing blood flow to the pre-frontal cortex (the part of the brain that regulates emotions)18

• Providing a boost of feel good hormones, such as dopamine, endorphins and serotonin19

• Reducing cortisol levels (the stress hormone)2021

• And activating the parasympathetic nervous system (our rest and digest mode)22

More specifically, the repetitive motions of doodling23, coloring24, chanting25, or painting26 can lower stress within minutes. And, making improvisational and/or pleasant music reduces amygdala activation27.

(Check out the book Your Brain on Art: How the Arts Transform Us to dig even deeper into the stress-relief of arts for both the maker and the audience).

Now, with stress-relief as our foundation, let’s look at how making art grows emotional intelligence (and the peace that’s made with it).

How the Arts Grow Peace with Emotional Intelligence

Emotional intelligence is a psychological term that can be defined as the ability to recognize and utilize emotions in ways that benefit our lives, our relationships, and the world-at-large. As such, emotional intelligence includes both self-love and love for others. In the book Emotional Intelligence 2.0, it’s broken down into 4 stages or steps:

1. Self-Awareness: this involves feeling our feelings and becoming aware of what causes them (so that we may better understand how our emotions point us to peace and/or personal growth).

2. Self-Management: this involves being able to regulate our nervous system and manage our reactions to our emotions.

3. Social Awareness: this involves understanding the emotions of others, including where those emotions might be coming from and/or how those emotions might be impacting their actions.

4. Relationship Management: this involves integrating the skills of self-awareness, self-management, and social awareness soto cultivate supportive and lasting relationships. This is where personal responsibility meets compassion to create peace.

Though it could be said that making art has the power to help with all the stages of developing emotional intelligence, let’s start with self-awareness because it provides the foundation for social awareness.

The Self-Love of Self-Awareness

Though self-awareness can sometimes feel like punishment (like time-outs for naughty kids to think about their actions), developing self-awareness can also be a heartwarming experience. It’s human nature to want to be seen and understood, and self-awareness offers that witness.

But this is often easier said than done. Self-awareness starts with feeling our emotions, but many of us haven’t been taught how to feel them. Though our emotions initially evolved to be intuitive, the world that forged them had very different conditions. So, emotionally speaking, modern society is mismatching (which can make our emotions quite confusing). Here’s why:

Our emotions developed within a world where threats to our wellbeing were mostly physiological (like a predator or harsh weather). As such, our emotions developed to protect us primarily from physical threats. To this end, when we sense a threat, the amygdala activates the physical fight-or-flight response, which, in turn, makes it more difficult to utilize our rational pre-frontal cortex28. In short: when we’re super freaked out, fight-or-flight overrides self-awareness with physical ability (learn more about how this happens in the third article of this series).

Evolutionarily speaking, this automatic response likely developed for the purpose of energy allocation as, in times of stress, bodies that prioritized the physical ability to flee or fight were more likely to survive than those who got caught in their minds29.

However, in the modern world, the automatic and unconscious prioritization of physical ability over cognitive ability doesn’t always serve us. This is because modern threats tend to be less about escaping aggressive animals and more about protecting ourselves from abstract dangers -such avoiding scammers or having enough money. While it makes sense to prioritize physical attributes when the threat is a tiger, fighting or fleeing in the face of an over-withdrawn bank account or a manipulative employer doesn’t help us to overcome those challenges.

As such, for most modern stressors, having our rational minds fully available to us is more important than having our muscles ready to fight or flee. But, since evolution hasn’t caught up with how the modern landscape has changed, we need tools to support us with navigating our mismatched nervous system -starting with calming it. Perhaps the development of these tools is, itself, the evolutionary response of our species that will secure our ability to survive the complex challenges that we all face today.

To that end, making art can calm the nervous system in two ways:

• In the short-term, making distracting art (and/or art that generates positive feelings) soothes difficult emotions and calms the sympathetic nervous system after it has been activated. Here, making art can be an effective response to stress that has already occurred.

• In the long-term, making art that directly addresses challenging emotions (rather than distracting from them) can ultimately rewire the brain to be less vulnerable to stress over time. This rewiring, however, only happens when the art is crafted to be transformative (rather than purely cathartic). Here, making transformational art can be a proactive approach that makes us more able to cope with life’s difficulties in the long run.

In any case, making art can help grow awareness of our feelings. Here’s how:

Firstly, making distracting (or positive) art can give us a break from our hard feelings, which can, ironically, lead to greater awareness of them; it gives our brains a minute to rationally reengage, which gives our emotional awareness a fuller range. Indeed, it’s physiologically difficult (if not impossible) to be fully aware of our feelings while we’re extremely triggered.

As such, when we’re overwhelmed with stress (or any challenging emotion), it’s not only compassionate to give ourselves a break, but also necessary for our bodies and brains. Though coping mechanisms can get a bad rap (because some of them lead to harmful addictions), not all coping mechanisms hurt our bodies or brains (for example: making art). In fact, making art as a distraction (where the subject of the art is unrelated to the stress) has been found to reduce stress significantly more than making art to vent (where the subject of the art is related to the stress30).

That being said, making distracting (or positive art) can only lead to greater awareness of our feelings if we’re committed to circle back to them. But making this commitment isn’t always easy because some of our feelings can be scary or confusing:

• Perhaps the feeling doesn’t fit our ideal self-image (like anger for optimists or gratitude for critics).

• Perhaps we perceive some feelings as a sign of weakness (like if we’ve been taught that we should control our emotions).

• Perhaps we come from cultures that suppress some feelings (like joy, anger, or the pains of grieving).

• Perhaps our emotions are confusing. It’s tricky to feel conflicting feelings (like relief and grief in the same dealing).

• Perhaps we’re scared to address the situation. Maybe we fear the changes that could happen. Or, maybe we feel out-of-control, disempowered and weak, or stuck in a hole. Maybe the challenge feels impossible.

• Or maybe there’s really nothing that we can do -what’s lost is gone, and some things we can’t make untrue.

• Or maybe we simply can’t tolerate the feeling. Some emotions really hurt and sting.

With these challenges in mind, it’s natural to suppress our feelings over time. In fact, coping mechanisms can be very caring and loving. We don’t want ourselves or our loved ones to suffer. Why feel bad when there’s things that can make us feel better?

But, coping mechanisms are only helpful as a short-term solution; while they can give us a necessary break from our feelings, they don’t address the underlying challenges. As such, any coping mechanism that’s used to suppress emotion over long-periods of time can ultimately be harmful (even making art). This is because long-term suppression of emotion can result in:

• addiction

• feeling detached or distant

• neglecting things that require attention

• sudden outbursts that worsen conflict

• psychological challenges (like anxiety and depression)

• and even health consequences31

But, thankfully, making art can both calm our feelings and support us in embracing them. Here’s how:

Firstly, making art makes it safe to feel our feelz because it’s an inherently loving intention. By offering the gift of attention, it says: I see you. I feel you. I care about your experience. For example, even as Margret Keane was made invisible from the public scene, the big eyes of her art found a way to see that our sad inner-child deserves a big hug, and that her own lonely-longing was worthy of love.

Secondly, the creative expression of our feelings helps us to label them, which is an effective strategy for activating the pre-frontal cortex32 (the self-awareness region of the brain).

Thirdly, making art gives us courage to feel our feelings because it strengthens our problem-solving abilities and develops self-efficacy.33 Every time we face a blank page, we assert our power to make something of nothing. Every time we overcome a mistake, we assert our power to still make something. This creative confidence builds our courage to feel our feelings because it confirms that creativity can get us through anything.

With all this in mind, by making art that’s emotionally honest, our capacity to know ourselves is expanded to welcome the whole of the human condition: with all the light, and all the darkness.

Understanding Our Emotions with Creativity

The next part of self awareness (as an act of self-love) is understanding our emotions. As emotions evolved as communications (from our bodies) that are designed to keep us safe and get our needs met, understanding our emotions is an essential aspect of caring for our wellbeing (especially as the mismatch with modern life can make our feelings so confusing).

That being said, understanding our emotions can be tricky because they

• can be triggered unconsciously (making it hard to find their root)34

• can come from false perceptions (making it hard to know what’s true)3536

• are often multi-layered, and even conflicting37 (making it hard to trace their comings and goings)

Furthermore, as all emotions arise from basic human needs, if our needs have been forbidden38, it can be hard to feel our feelings: perhaps the need has been neglected by our culture or family, or perhaps our circumstances have been so hard that we’ve lost hope completely.

With all those challenges in mind, making art helps us understand our emotions in a few ways:

Firstly, making art provides the time and space that’s needed for our feelings to spread out -onto a canvas, a page, or into a song. This space allows us to see layers in our feelings (which is particularly helpful when they’re conflicting). More specifically, making art activates the part of the brain called the default mode network (DMN)3940, where spontaneous insight4142 or “A-ha! moments” happen. What’s more, research has shown that “A-ha moments” are more likely to happen when a person’s in a positive mood. So, as making art improves our mood, we’re more likely to gain insight too43.

Secondly, making art strengthens our cognitive abilities444546. It helps improve our skills in critical thinking47, associative thinking48 and observation49. These cognitive skills help us identify the roots of our feelings, which are often found in unmet needs that include50:

• physiological needs (such as nourishment and safety)

• psychological needs (such as identity and self-esteem)

• social needs (such as relationships with our families, friends, partners, and community)

• and existential needs (such as purpose, peace and play)

(for a complete list of needs and feelings, check out this resource from The Center for Non-Violent Communication).

That being said, confusion around our feelings is sometimes caused by false-threats5152 in which we perceive challenges to our needs that aren’t really there. While I’ll talk more about these false perceptions later in this post, improved skills in observation help us to better identify false threats, and trace their origins into our past.

Furthermore, while making art of our personal stories definitely helps with understanding our feelings, it’s also helpful to create stories that aren’t directly about ourselves; when we create representatives, it can be a big help53. Fictional stories, stories about others, and even metaphors,5455 create a space between the self and story that helps to open doors5657, that softens our defenses so that we may explore the dynamics of our feelings without kicking what’s sore58.59 For example, Charles Dickens60 soothed his trauma from abandonment and poverty through fictional tales of noble victory. Toni Morrison61 wrote stories to survive the pains of history by writing tales that emphasized a collective overcoming.

From Self-Love to Social-Love

As we understand our own emotions better, we better understand the emotions of others; self-awareness naturally seeps into awareness of our lovers. As such, making art effectively grows empathy and compassion for all human feelings.

This compassion is helpful in our relationships because feelings are at the root of relationship challenges. As Marshall Rosenberg taught in Non-Violent Communication: A Language of Life, underlying every interaction (and conflict) is each person’s needs and feelings. So, when we understand how the two are connected, it’s easier to navigate conflict. This kind of empathy and compassion is at the heart of all resolution.

That being said, there is a fine line between empathy, compassion and projection:

• Empathy is when we physically feel the other person’s emotions63.

• Compassion is caring for the human condition.

• Projection, however, is when we’re mistaken by thinking others feel what we have rejected64.

With that in mind, social awareness requires the same kind of evaluation that’s needed for self-awareness, a skill that can be built through creative practice -with neuroplasticity.

The Art of Neuroplasticity

Neuroplasticity is a really fancy way of saying: the ability to learn to do things differently; it’s the brain’s ability to rewire itself with new behaviors and understandings65. This is essential for the evolution of heroic hearts because it helps rewire hurtful patterns (that developed from trauma or were inherited from culture) into ever-loving ways of being and seeing.

To that end, here’s a quick overview of neuroplasticity:

The early years of our lives are a time of rapid growth for our brains. In this time, our brains make fundamental connections (called synapses) that are strengthened by strong emotion and repetition. These connections form the foundation for how we see and respond to the world, and who we ultimately become.

Then, as we move through life, we gain new experiences that update our neural connections (synapses). When synapses aren’t used, they’re pruned.66 When they’re repeated, they’re glued.67 Throughout our lives, with strong emotion and repetition, all ages can make new synaptic connections.

With this in mind, making art enhances neuroplasticity in many ways:

Firstly, creativity (as a whole) is both rooted in neuroplasticity and a driver of it.6869 This is because creativity requires associative thinking70 (which is when we make connections between memories or new experiences). As these new connections are formed, so are new synapses (which is central to being neuroplastic).

Secondly, making art generates highly emotional experiences. These emotional experiences increase the attention and focus that’s needed to create new neural connections and/or strengthen existing connections.71

Thirdly, making art offers a multi-sensory brain-boost that strengthens connectivity between regions.72 It does this in a couple of ways.

• Many art mediums (such as visual arts, music, dance, and creative writing) simultaneously activate the prefrontal cortex (for interpretation), the amygdala (for emotional response), and various sensory regions (such as the visual, auditory and motor cortexes). Strengthening connections between the pre-frontal cortex and the amygdala73 is especially important because the connection between these regions is what facilitates emotional regulation.74

• Creativity (in general) helps to form and strengthen connections between the brain regions that support idea generation/divergent thinking (which happens in the default mode network) and the brain region that supports the selection of ideas/convergent thinking (which happens in the executive control network)75. These connections are important to note because outside of the creative context, generating ideas and selecting ideas often work in opposition to each other. But in creative acts, they can work together.7677

Finally, making art increases neuroplasticity because it increases dopamine,78 which:

• improves our cognitive flexibility (our capacity to shift between tasks)79

• decreases inhibitions80 (which leads to open-mindedness)

• and generates motivation81 (which increases effort and focus -both of which are essential in forming synaptic connections).

Overall, the cognitive abilities that are strengthened by neuroplasticty also strengthen our problem-solving skills and self-efficacy,82 which gives us the courage to love heroically.

Now, let’s look at how different art mediums support neuroplasticity:

Visual Arts

Creating visual art generates and/or strengthens synaptic connections in two important ways:

1. Visual symbols bridge the gap between imagery (like a heart or a dove) and personal/cultural concepts (like love or peace). These bridges create and/or support neural connections.838485

2. Colors, symbols, shapes, and scenes express different feelings8687 (and strong emotions also create and/or support neural connections). This includes (but is not limited to):

• Creating symbols, pictures, and scenes that are connected to memories or fantasies also express the feelings connected to those memories or fantasies.888990

• The portrayal of facial expressions allows the artist to express their own emotions.91

• Different colors express different feelings92 (such as lighter/saturated colors feeling positive and darker/less saturated colors feeling negative).93 Specific colors also evoke specific emotions through unconscious associations.94 For example, bright blue might be associated with a clear sky and clean water, which may then evoke the calm feeling of needs being met. Conversely, gray may be associated with clouds or dirty water, and therefore evoke the somber or stressed feeling of needs being challenged. That beings said, the emotions that colors evoke can vary between individuals and cultures who may have different unconscious associations.

• Different shapes can also (unconsciously) express different emotions.95 For example, downward-pointing V’s may express fear while roundness may convey contentment.96 Evolutionarily speaking, this may be because a V-shape subconsciously resembles angry eyebrows97 while roundness resembles smiles.98 Similarly, anger is sometimes connected with broken lines because the “muscle tension [that] characterizes anger is likely to result in drawing broken lines.”99

Music

As noted by the study “The transformative power of music: Insights into neuroplasticity, health, and disease”, “music has a remarkable capacity to induce transformative changes in the brain, fostering neuroplasticity and reshaping neural networks.100” This is partially due to music’s uncanny ability to generate emotions, which can create and strengthen new neural connections. In fact, one study found that there are 13 distinct emotions that music conjures universally: “amusement, joy, eroticism, beauty, relaxation, sadness, dreaminess, triumph, anxiety, scariness, annoyance, defiance, and feeling pumped up.101” The neural connections that are formed or strengthened through the emotional experience of music are then enhanced with focused performance, repetitious listening, and/or emotive movements (such as dance).102103

Furthermore, when music has lyrics, it gains the added benefits of poetry and/or story:

Poetry

Creating poetry supports neuroplasticity (in part) because it utilizes musical elements (such as rhythm, repetition and rhyme) and visual elements (such as vivid imagery and symbols). As such, when poetry utilizes musical or visual elements, it generates the same brain-changing benefits.

What’s more, metaphors (like symbols) are especially powerful in supporting neuroplasticity as they connect complex and abstract ideas (like love) with physical experiences (like warmth) or physical objects (like roses). This associative process “allow[s] us to draw on concrete, familiar knowledge to reason about abstract concepts”104.

Story

Finally, story (which is at the heart of most art) supports neuroplasticity tremendously. To understand how, let’s first look more deeply at how stories shape our perspectives (and our reality):

The Creation of Perspective

On an evolutionary level, our brains developed to keep us safe and make sure our needs are met. To that end, they are constantly scanning our experience for clues of what might be dangerous or beneficial to us.105106 We’re able to protect and care for ourselves by making associations between things that challenge our needs (such as lions and a lack of safety) and that meet our needs (such as fruit trees and full bellies).107 These associations eventually become stories that we carry about the nature of reality.

That being said, as our brains couldn’t possibly process everything in our experience, they have to choose what they take in, and what they keep. To that end, our brains prioritize:108109110

• strong emotional experiences (of either pain or satisfaction) as these experiences indicate when needs are met or challenged.

• repeated emotional experiences, because repetition signals what’s more likely to happen.

Then, from these emotional and repetitive experiences, our memories are accumulated and stored in segments (or chucks) that form unconscious stories. These unconscious stories are designed to warn or encourage with associations and “if/than possibilities”111 that allow our brains to guess what is (or will be) happening.112 They are often related to:113

• Purpose: to affirm our goals, values and intentions (which are often connected to needs, survival, or meaning).

• Validation: to justify our actions and ways of seeing.

• Confidence: to affirm our capability and self-efficacy (which creates a sense of control and safety).

• Self-Worth: to support our self-esteem and belonging.

Ultimately, our unconscious stories then accumulate into a schema,114 which is the body of memories that we unconsciously draw upon to understand our experience; it’s the lens that filters how we perceive our lives.115116 In the formation of our schemas, our strongest stories have the greatest influence. This phenomena relies on two primary concepts:

1. Habbian Learning has to do with the strength of neural pathways and connections. It states that “each time a memory is recalled or an action is repeated, the neural pathways involved become more robust as they fire together, making that action or memory more intuitive or easy to reproduce.”117 In other words, when neurons fire together, they wire together.

2. Neural gain has to do with the strength of individual neural signals.118 It acts like an amplifier that increases the volume of active neurons (the thoughts that we focus on) while overriding weaker neural signals (the thoughts that we don’t focus on). As such, the thoughts with the greatest neural gain tend to dominate our attention.119

With all that in mind, the thoughts that have the strongest pathways and gain form the foundation of our schemas, and ultimately become automatic (and unconscious). This makes them more likely to influence our predicting machines (brains) when interpreting new experiences. In other words: our brain filters our lives with our strongest stories.120

That being said, the brain strengthens neural connections based on repetition and intensity, not accuracy. So, if we focus on or repeat a false story enough, the brain will strengthen its neural pathway and signal, making it feel real (even if it’s not). Consequently, we can unconsciously build entire schemas that are based on false stories.

Finally, over time (and with relatively little new sensory input), our strongest stories become self-perpetuating realities (for better or worse). This happens because our perception influences how we respond to our experiences, and our responses nudge our situation to meet our perceptions.

For example, if my unconscious/automatic stories lead me to believe that someone interrupting me means that they don’t respect me, I might respond rudely when I’m interrupted. This may then lead the other person to believe that I don’t respect them either, which may evoke them to also treat me rudely. Their response would then reinforce my belief that their initial interruption was a sign of disrespect. Ultimately, this dynamic would result in a reality of mutual disgust.

But what if, in reality, the person’s initial interruption was actually caused by an intense state of anxiety (not disrespect for me)? If I had a more compassionate default perspective, I may have responded to their interruption with more care and patience (even if I was a little annoyed). This compassion could have drawn a kinder response from the other person, which would have created an entirely different reality of care.

With that in mind, here’s a little more about how we can all develop inaccurate ways of seeing, and how those distortions impact our realities.

(Read The Experience Machine: How Our Minds Predict and Shape Reality by Andy Clark to learn more about how our brains shape our realities)

Problems with the Predicting Machine

Our brains are constantly seeking cohesive narratives to help us make around 35,000121 daily decisions (that are generally oriented towards meeting our needs and protecting our safety, self-worth, and relationships). But life doesn’t always provide all the information needed (at least not as quickly as we’d like it). So, because our brains like simplicity and speed, they create shortcuts called heuristics.122 In these well-meaning shortcuts,123 our brains generalize or make associations between things so quickly that they can become blinded to reality. When repeated, these false-perceptions become cognitive distortions.124

In general, cognitive distortions are overarching false perceptions that relate to ourselves, others, or our situation. Negative distortions are meant to keep us safe by overestimating danger (so that we can avoid it or prepare for it); they provide a false sense of control and protection from disappointment. Conversely, positive distortions are meant to lessen anxiety by underestimating threats, ignoring facts, or minimizing signs of distress.

However, though cognitive distortions evolved to keep us safe and meet our needs,125 they can end up causing distress, depression and anxiety. That being said, many cognitive distortions are hard to recognize or change because they were formed in childhood.126127128129 These childhood challenges can include (but are not limited to):

• Challenges with parents, which can include emotional neglect, parents in conflict,130 parentification (which is when children parent their parents),131 or parents who are overly strict132 or protective.133

• Cultural Challenges: such as experiences of discrimination134 and/or cultures that overly emphasize beauty,135 success, or achievement.136

• Challenges with stability or safety, such as living in poverty137 (with food insecurity or unstable housing138) and/or in areas with high levels of crime139 (like violence or robbery).

• Challenges with peers,140141 such violence, ostracism or bullying.

• Chronic health challenges,142 such as illness, pain, or medical conditions.

However, cognitive distortions aren’t only created in childhood. Just as neuroplasticity allows our brains to rewire in ways that are beneficial, our brains can also be rewired in ways that are harmful. In adulthood, these new cognitive distortions can be formed from significant life challenges or traumas,143 such as: severe career setbacks, painful break-ups, financial crisis, chronic illness, or sudden trauma (like accidents, disasters, or violence).

That being said, despite their inaccuracy, cognitive distortions color all our experiences, and tend to feel very real; they make a mirror of the world in which no matter how much we’re loved, we still feel unlovable. No matter how hard we try, we still feel unforgivable. No matter how much we have, we still feel poor. No matter how safe we are, we still feel insecure.

Over time these distortions fuel a downward spiral144 of low-self-esteem,145 poor decisions,146 procrastination (or avoidance),147 148strained relationships,149150 and even addiction.151 As such, cognitive distortions can create major roadblocks for heroic hearts.

But, the good news is: they’re not permanent. The stories (and realities) that are made by our predicting machines are not fixed but malleable. With conscious intention, as we gain new experiences, we can tweak our unconscious stories with more accurate associations and predictions. In this process, we are constantly creating new reflections -and realities.

(Read Thinking Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman to learn more about automatic vs deliberate ways of perceiving).

The Creative Evolution of Heroic Hearts

All things considered, understanding how we form and change our perspectives/stories is essential for understanding the heart’s evolution. Though evolution has wired humans to be largely self-serving, cautious152153 and defensive (with some exceptions),154 the neuroplasticity of story-art can help us evolve our mammalian perspectives into realities of peace, love and justice. Here how:

Firstly, it’s important to note that love is both a perspective and an action; when we see life with loving eyes, it influences how we treat it. Research shows that people tend to respond to others based on their perception of them (rather than their actual behavior).155 As such, we become more prone to loving action when our stories support a default perspective that has compassion for the human condition and recognizes how we’re all connected.

With that in mind, making story-art is an ally to the neuroplasticity of evolving hearts because (with intention) it can:

1. Facilitate compassionate self-evaluation, which includes identifying false information. This recognition allows us to see synaptic patterns that we want to change. In making art, this happens in the editing phase.

2. Support creative new possibilities. This allows us to write new stories (that create new synaptic patterning). In making art, this happens when revising.

3. Reinforce new synaptic patterns of gratitude, interdependence, compassion and confidence through focus, repetition, and emotional experience.

To that end, in the next section, I’ll share some of the methods of creative transformation that I’ve developed (and the science behind them).

Rewiring for Peace with Creativity

Before I get into the nuts and bolts of my own practice, it’s important to note that what I share here is not meant to be a rulebook. In fact, one of the reasons that I’ve dug into all this nerdy science is so that each person can integrate their understanding in their own way.

Furthermore, flexibility in practice is important because science makes new discoveries all the time, and each of those discoveries has the potential to reinforce or change our minds. As such, it’s important to stay open to new discoveries, and to the new creative approaches that may be born of those discoveries.

Moreover, it’s important to honor the work that we created when we had different understandings as each creation plays a part in the process of evolving. That’s how evolution works: it makes the best of what it’s got, then it readjusts.

Still, one of humanity’s biggest challenges is to move forward despite infinitely incomplete perspectives; we need to apply what we know, even as we know that we don’t know all of it.

With that in mind, it took me a really long time (about 14 years ) to figure out how to effectively apply all these nerdy discoveries to my creations. So, here’s a head start:

Phases of Transformation

My creative practice has three distinct phases:

1. The Art of Being There for Myself: Brainstorming, Improvisation, and Rough Drafts: In this part, I establish my friendship with myself. This may include making distracting art, affirming art, or cathartic art.

2. The Art of Correcting: Compassionate Evaluation and Editing: In this part, I evaluate my feelings by looking for misperceptions and/or cognitive distortions.

3. The Art of Creating New Patterns of Love: Revision and Rewiring: In this part, I rewire my brain with more accurate, empowering, and peaceful perspectives.

But before I dig into each phase, it’s important to note that there’s no way to know what the end product will look like. This is because the process is transformational. How we see ourselves, our situation, and the world-at-large will change as a result of our creation. As such, it’s important to begin open-mindedly, and to wonder (with great confidence in the process): What will my creativity make of me?

Furthermore, it’s important to note that this process can take time. In fact, as we are ever-evolving, it could be said that our creative practice is never-ending. To that I end, give myself sharing-deadlines that say: “This is where I am today (though I know tomorrow may change).”

That being said, the length of these sharing-deadlines varies. Sometimes I give myself short deadlines (like when I make Little Ditties) while other deadlines are longer (like when I’m making an album or book -which feel like they’ve taken forever 🙄). In my quick creations, I’m able to soothe myself with creativity and gain little bits of new understanding. Even so, these short-lived creations aren’t meant to last; primarily process-based, they’re meant to come and pass. Conversely, when I’m creating something to share and carry for a long time, I give myself longer deadlines because I want the creations that I put on repeat to serve love and peace to the best of my ability.

With these longer deadlines, it’s especially important to keep an open mind as the process can deliver varied results: it could result in one culminating work (that has many drafts), or in a series of pieces, in which each piece reflects a different phase of transformation. In any case, what’s most important is that I stay open to change.

Part 1: The Art of Being There for Ourselves: Brainstorming, Improvising & Rough Drafts

For me, the hardest part of any creation is starting; there’s nothing more terrifying than the blank page. With that in mind, here’s a little more about the approaches that I use to get started:

• Distracting Art: When my feelings are so overwhelming that I need respite from them, I make art that’s distracting. For me, this might include doodling, crafting, making imaginative art, making nature art, or improvising about what’s around me (or silly things). What’s important here is that the art does not aim to express my feelings at all; instead it aims to take my mind off of them. Here, by giving myself a break, I give myself the mercy of reprieve (which gives my nervous system a chance to breathe).

• Cathartic Art: Conversely, I vent. I improvise about what I’m feeling. These kinds of brainstorms (or rough-drafts) act like a release valve for my emotions.156 Here, I offer myself a loving witness by letting it all out. Whether it’s negative or positive, sobbing or enraged, I invite my whole self into this phase. By starting this art candidly, I offer compassion to my own humanity.

That being said, while these initial creations are helpful in the short-term (both approaches can reduce stress), lasting transformation requires a deeper dig. For example, with distracting art, it’s important to eventually acknowledge and address what feels difficult. This is important because our hard feelings are designed to provide us with essential information for our wellbeing. Conversely, in venting, it’s important to actively move towards a more positive state of being. This is important because though venting can offer a quick-release for pent-up emotions, prolonged venting can actually perpetuate the feeling (rather than alleviate it).157

That being said, there are times that I’m scared to address my emotions (because they’re confusing, disempowering, or just too painful). In this case, I take the extra step of making art that affirms my ability to handle my feelings (and the situation that’s connected to them). For example, maybe I make art of an empowering symbol or an affirming story that says: I am capable of feeling this feeling; I have strength and endurance. I am capable of addressing what’s causing this feeling; I am creative and powerful.

However, there are still times when I feel like I’ve got nothing to stand on (so affirmations feel fake). In this case, I make art that expresses a need for help, and that affirms that I’m supported. For example, maybe I make art about someone in my life who supports me. Or, if I’m feeling lonely, maybe I imagine someone supporting me. Or, if I’m at a total loss, maybe I make art that affirms my faith in Something Else. In any case, this kind of art says: I need help feeling this feeling and addressing what’s causing it. I know that I’m supported in the process.

Finally, and only after I’ve summoned a dose of calm, confidence, love, and support, I enter the editing phase.

Part 2: The Art of Correcting: Compassionate Evaluation & Editing

In this phase, I look at what my art is avoiding or missing. In the process, I do my best to edit compassionately because editing can feel very vulnerable. Some of these vulnerabilities may include:158

• the skunk-cost fallacy,159 in which abandoning parts that need revision can feel like a major loss (because we’ve already invested so much in them).

• perfectionism, in which the process of clarifying becomes paralyzing160 -perhaps we expect our art to be immediately perfect (rather than a work-in-progress). Or maybe we believe our art will never be good-enough (no matter the amount of refinement).

• fear of failure, in which just one edit is perceived as a failure of our whole being.

With that in mind, for many years I didn’t include editing in my creative practices (like journaling or improvisation) because my sole intention was self-love. At the time, I saw editing as a cosmetic procedure, and I wasn’t worried about what I looked like to others (plus, I was afraid of my own perfectionism and feelings of failure).

That being said, though seeing ourselves in a positive light is essential to mental health161 (it promotes contentment, creativity, and our ability to be of help), there’s a fine line between a positive self-image and positive illusions; the difference lies in the willingness to acknowledge our mistakes and misperceptions. As such, positive self-image grows self-confidence with a greater ability to impact our reality (because we’re able to see it more clearly). Conversely, positive illusions weaken self-confidence because they create confusions that can lead to harmful decisions.

As such, over time I’ve come to treasure the editing process as one of the most powerful parts of my creative practice. This is because I’ve learned to use editing as a tool for gaining awareness of my illusions. As I realize that my biases, cognitive distortions, and misunderstandings often cause great suffering, correcting myself has become a form of self-loving.

However, it can be scary to challenge our cognitive distortions because they started from a place that was well-meaning (albeit maladaptive). As such,

• If the distortion was created for control or safety, challenging it can feel terrifying.

• If the distortion was meant for stability or certainty, challenging it can feel like endless worry.

• If the distortion was meant to protect our self-esteem or confidence, challenging it can feel like utter incompetence.

• If the distortion was meant to affirm our identity, challenging it can feel like losing integrity.

That being said (and as we’ve seen), we’re all prone to misunderstandings. Though our brains do their darnedest to see things accurately, they don’t always construct reflections of reality.

The good news is: we’re designed to update them with neuroplasticity!

So, though it can be scary to see the flaws in our perspectives, making art supports this process in a couple of ways:

Firstly, making art can support us in becoming aware of what we want to change. When we make art with loving intention, it provides a safe context that softens defenses, and broadens awareness.162 Making art creates distance between us and our stories, which helps us to take editing much less personally.

With that in mind, after I’ve created unfiltered brainstorms (or rough drafts), I scan for potential changes by putting my art on trial.163164 Here’s how:

1. I present the case: I look at the situation that the art reflects and how I understand it.

2. I evaluate emotions: I look at the feelings that the art expresses:

   • If the art feels angry, what’s felt unfair?

   • If the art feels afraid, where’ve I felt danger?

   • If the art feels sad, what’s felt lost?

   • If the art feels ashamed, what harm have I caused?

3. I look for evidence that supports the feelings that the art reflects. Then I ask:

   • Where’d that evidence come from? Was it locked in the past? Is it something I learned, or saw in an ad?

   • Whose voice does it remind me of? Why would I trust it? Does it seem logical, loving and/or experienced?

4. I look for evidence that conflicts with my understanding. Then I ask: Why might it threaten or scare me?

5. I evaluate and make a conclusion. Here, I decide if the perspective that my art reflects is (or isn’t) correct. If not, I consider new ways to see. How might my art reflect a new reality?

With the in mind, I keep an eye out for cognitive distortions:165166167168

• Might the art be overgeneralizing? What’s a more nuanced way to see? Is the art catastrophizing?169 Are there other possibilities?

• Does the art perpetuate black and white thinking? What exists between the extremes? Does the art magnify tiny details?170 What’s the whole scene?

• Might the art contain a bias that protects myself or culture? What other perspectives could make the picture clearer?

• Does the art discount the positive parts of the story? What goodness or gifts might the art be missing?171

• Does the art reflect where I’m rushing? Is the problem as imminent as I’ve been thinking?

• Is the art personalizing things that are out of my control?172 Does it “should me” into carrying more than I can hold?173

• Conversely, does the art minimize the risks at hand?174 Has the art crossed into blind optimism?175

• Or does the art idealize things that are more complex?176 Does it ignore or negate flaws or challenges?

By constantly questioning my cognitive distortions (through the editing process), I activate new areas of my brain to make new neural connections.177178 Here, I begin the process of rewiring my mind with synaptic patterns where the brain and heart align.

To that end, here’s a couple of strategies that support the revelation of new ways of seeing:

To start, it helps to seek outside perspectives, which can include:

• talking to people that I trust (friends, family members, mentors, or trained professionals).

• checking out other people’s art (in any medium)

• researching relative history, science, philosophy, and/or opposing points of view

Finally, once I’ve stirred the pot, it helps to let it simmer for a while by taking a break. I find that the space between times of creation is often where new insight arises. This phenomena has been noted by many creators, most notably psychologist Rollo May (who was a contemporary of Vicktor Frankl). In his book, The Courage to Create, Rollo May describes the creative process as a rhythm of:

• intense concentration

• rest (or doing something else)

• and sudden insight

Though folks understand the origin of insight differently (May attributes it to the unconscious, neuroscientists might point to the DMN, and people of faith might point to God), one thing can be agreed upon: insight requires space for it to emerge.

Part 3: The Art of Creating New Patterns of Love: Revision & Rewiring

Finally, after I’ve identified where edits are needed (and made space for the emergence of new perspectives), I move into revision. Here, making art can rewire our brains to align with our intention. I ask: What kind of life do I want to make with my creation?

With the power of purpose in mind, I aim my art at love and peace. Then, I rewire my brain with:

• Positivity: I use the creative process to amplify the positive aspects of my challenges (such as reframing them as growth experiences).

• Gratitude: I use my art to remind myself of what’s going well in my life (even amongst the poops, pains, and strife).

• Interdependence: I use the creative process to focus on how it’s all connected.

• Compassion: I use my art to mercifully recognize the human condition.

• Confidence: I use the creative process to reassure that I’ve got the support and capability to overcome and endure.

• Meaning: I use my art to amplify my values and purpose in life.179180

That being said, it’s important to note that different situations call for different approaches. For example:

• Challenges with discrimination may benefit more from meaning-making than positive reframing.181

• Challenges with belonging may benefit more from interdependence than gratitude for what has happened.

• Challenges with failure may benefit more from compassion than from awe or interdependence.

With that in mind, before I share about each method, it’s important to note that these approaches aren’t universal solutions; each one applies differently to each situation. As such, in the development process, I sometimes try-on different approaches to see what feels most supportive. Within this list, I always find something that fits.

Now, with Choose-Your-Own-Adventure in mind:

For meaning, I make art that amplifies the three fundamental sources of meaning in life (as proposed by Viktor Frankl in his book Man’s Search for Meaning):

• Service: I make art about creating meaningful work or doing a meaningful deed (Listen to my songs and read the stories for Bring Out the Life and Country Side Alive)

• Reverence: I make art about having an experience (or relationship) of love, awe,182 wonder, or beauty. (Listen to my songs and read the stories for Loyal Loving Eyes and Miracle of the Tides)

• Resilience: I make art about overcoming a significant challenge. (Listen to my song and read the story of Infinite Air)

Then for positivity and confidence (which can be considered part of meaning-making), I create my art with the process of reappraisal in mind.183184185 This psychological process is defined as an “emotional regulation technique [that] involves identifying and transforming negative thought patterns into more effective ones.”186 For example,

• If something in my past was painful, I look for a silver-lining. What was the gift? What was surprising? (Listen to my songs and read the stories for Color in the Cracks and Heart of the Hard Rock)

• I look at the challenge from a wider lens. In a year from now, will it matter what happened? How would a fly see the situation?187188 (Listen to my songs and read the stories of Treasure in the Dirt and Microbe Miracles)

• I focus on the things that I can control. Then, I affirm my ability to cook with the sourest pickle.189 (Listen to my song and read the story of Dear Navigator)

• I look at myself from the eyes of one who loves me. What would grandma say to this snotty-nosed crying? How is my experience reflected in humanity?190191 (Listen to my songs and read the stories for Tender Transplant, Cloud Cover and Ode to Our Nature)

• I find personal growth when I fail at something, and remember that mistakes are part of learning. (Listen to my songs and read the stories for Fledgling Flight and Becoming Butterflies)

That being said, it’s important to remember that both the positive and the negative serve an essential function:192 the negative motivates improvement and the positive creates acceptance. As such, the aim of reappraisal is not to make art that’s fully positive or negative, but to discover how the two can be in agreement.193 Even so, I don’t aim for a 50/50 balance; I always give positivity a little leg-up in my creations. This is because positivity tends to support mental health, while negativity tends to degrade it.194

With that in mind, using my art to cultivate gratitude is a wonderful way to add positivity (without having to negate negativity). Studies have shown that practicing gratitude boosts dopamine and serotonin,195 gives the brain more oxygen196 (which helps it to function), and lowers cortisol levels by 23%.197 To that end, during hard times in my life, every day I write a little poem, draw a little picture, or tell a little story to amplify life’s little gifts and beauties (for more on this practice, read The Science of Positivity and check out my little ditties).

That being said, there’s a fine line between optimism and delusion; when optimism denies our challenges, it too becomes a distortion. However, some life-changes do benefit from believing in things that seem unrealistic. Ending slavery, for example, may have seemed like an absurd fantasy at first, but because folks (delusionally) dared to fight for this reality, America was able to end that horrific part of history.

Similarly, a little dose of delusion is sometimes needed to overcome poverty as class structures are not made to break very easily. For example, aiming for an abundant life may have seemed like a pipe-dream for Juan Gabriel (who was raised poor in an orphanage). But his (delusional) self-belief allowed him to rise above his place in society. In fact, even when he was wrongly imprisoned, he continued to write music (which caught the eye of the warden, who helped him to get famous). Similarly, it was considered insane (at the time) for a man to behave in such flamboyant ways, but Juan Gabriel’s (delusional) self-belief still found an authentic way to sing.198

With that in mind, when it comes to making peace (within and around me), idealistic art is a proactive methodology. Idealistic art is a form of creative visualization that is valuable because it acts as a mental rehearsal. This rehearsal strengthens the synapses involved wherein imagining a slam dunk is as helpful as throwing the ball.199200

As such, though my day-to-day experience is subject to the whims of my automatic responses, the idealism of my art sets me up for more peaceful reactions. In super-nerdy science philosophy, this proactive (and idealistic) approach collaborates with our brain’s wiring-system by asserting our own programming (read more about this in the previous article of the series). In this way, though my automatic responses may not always meet my ideal in the moment, creative visualization helps close the gap between who I am and who I’m becoming.

That being said, there’s also a fine line between idealism and perfectionism. With this in mind, I do my best to remember that I’m not alone in the space between my art and my lived reality; it’s a common challenge in artistry. For example, though Charles Dickens was a champion of compassion in his stories, his life behind the scenes was always not so pretty (as it was clear that his trauma still took a toll emotionally).201202 Plus, he reflected the Victorian gentleman of his time: gracious in public, but stern when out of sight203. What’s more, after 22 years of marriage, Dickens fell in love with another woman. Then, he defamed his wife and cut her off from her children.204205

Still, his character was complicated. Despite his harsh personality, he was also known to show generosity.206 He even helped struggling women by establishing a home for recovery.207

Even so, many critics call Dickens a hypocrite. But, from a psychological perspective, it’s much more complicated. Indeed, healing our traumas and cognitive distortions often takes time (neuroplasticity doesn’t happen overnight). Plus, I wonder who he would’ve become without his stories as a guiding light? (I imagine the abusive parts would’ve caused even more pain and strife).

That being said, even though his life was imperfect behind the scenes, the work of Charles Dickens still created an aim for society that tangibly bore more compassion and mercy. What would have become of the world if we never heard A Christmas Carol story?

With that in mind, I aim to encourage myself and other artists: even as none of us are perfect, we can still make a big difference. Here, themes of forgiveness allow me to be coherent: I may miss the mark at times, but my aim is earnest. And isn’t that true for all of us humans as we struggle to overcome all our distortions?

To that end, I’ve created a few guidelines for what I call Compassionate Storytelling. Though not all of these questions are applicable to every creation, I find it helpful to ask:

• Setting: Does the story provide a context that explains how characters are shaped? Does it illustrate how each character is made?

• Characters: Does the story reveal the strengths and weaknesses of all? Does it provide the background to understand their faults?

• Plot: Does the story illustrate how challenges spur growth, or how needing help confirms we’re not alone? How does it demonstrate interdependence (in which even characters in conflict offer each other benefit)?

• Meaning/Purpose: What purpose does my story serve for me, as the creator? Then, for the audience, what does it offer? How does my creation support love and peace? In the face of life’s challenges, how does it help us to believe?

Finally, once the heart of my art has become clear, different creative tools and devices can be used to further strengthen new synaptic connections. For example:

• Repetitive Affirmations:208209 In song lyrics and poetry I repeat affirmations that support peaceful perspectives (a helpful resource is the list of coping thoughts that are offered in the book Taming Your Amygdala: Brain Based Strategies to Quiet the Anxious Mind).

• Deep Focus: I create series or themes in which new patterns are strengthened through sustained focus over time.

• Emotional Content: Throughout my art, I use music, colors, shapes, metaphors and symbols to evoke emotion (as strong emotions strengthen new synaptic connections).

• Imagination/Visualization210: In my stories, I imagine myself (and others) living with peaceful patterns.

However, even within these methods, I’ve found a fine line between reinforcing positive perspectives and negating my true experience. This is important to notice because I make art as an expression of love for the human condition, wherein it feels important to honor all the ups and downs of our experience.

That being said, it can be tricky to synthesize the tenets of neuroplasticity with honest reflections of our full-spectrum being. This is because while the science of neuroplasticity illustrates that our art perpetuates the themes of our creations, not all of our experiences want to be perpetuated. For example, while expressing pain is important in identifying where there’s danger,211 making art about pain can reinforce feelings of fear and anger (rather than alleviating them). So, how do I express the fullness of my experience while staying aware of the power of my creation?

This conundrum has been a central challenge within the development of my creative practice. That being said, I have made progress. Here’s some strategies that I’ve developed:

• I treat each creation as a puzzle-piece within my larger body of work as an artist. Here, some pieces reflect the joy, and some reflect the challenges. Edvard Munch’s212 paintings, for example, naturally encompassed the range of human experience as his earlier work produced the “The Scream”, but “The Sun” reflected his healing.

• I make multi-media art in which different mediums make space for different parts of me. For example: In music, I lean toward idealism and positivity because music is often listened to on repeat. In stories, however, I tend to include a wider-range of my experience (this method can be seen in my musical diary)

• I think of my art in layers. For the purpose of creating new synapses and perspectives, I use the most prominent layers to create new habits. In the chorus of a song, repeating phrases, the end of a story, or the point of focus, I commit wholeheartedly to where I’m aiming. Then, I fill-in the flesh of my story with the hurt and humor of becoming (I used this method in the song Something More).

• I create art that juxtaposes abstract emotional expression (such as colors or music) with symbols or words that create the opposite feeling. With anger, for example, I might use colors or tones that reflect rage, but words or symbols that assert my ability to hold my boundary with grace. Conversely, I’m inspired by artists who use positive colors or tones as the backdrop to their difficult experiences (a method that was absolutely mastered in Motown music). That being said, it doesn’t take much positive to make a big difference. In fact, even a hopeful question can keep a light in the darkness (I used this method in the song Meeting in the Trees).

With all this in mind, art has the power to bring the two hands of peace together: the hand of mercy for things as they are, and the hand that dreams for better; the hand that acknowledges the depth of our challenges, and the hand that knows that we can overcome them.

The Mirror of Story: Art, At Your Service.

Up until this point, I’ve primarily talked about the ways in which making art can help artists to evolve our love into new stages of peace. But, these benefits don’t stop with us -when we share the art of our evolving hearts, our audience receives the same new start.

As a tool for growing love and peace, this makes art a key because not everyone has the time to evaluate how we perceive. With work, kids, and all our responsibilities, we don’t all have the time to craft new realities. No doubt, what takes the reader an hour to ingest has taken the writer weeks (if not years) to express. Then, with poems, pictures, shorts and songs, the audience gets the benefit by singing along.

This is to say: the arts are an extremely efficient and effective social service.

Here’s the nerdy-stuff behind it:

As we’ve explored here, at the heart of most art is story, and story is a central component of how we create our perspectives (and the actions that are born of those perspectives). So, as art shapes story, it also shapes reality. This is true for both the creator and the audience due to the existence of mirror neurons.

Mirror neurons are specialized brain cells that activate when we witness someone do something. They exist in many parts of the brain to form the Mirror Neuron System (MNS).213 In general, here’s how they work:

When we witness someone do or experience something, our mirror neurons activate the same brain regions with us (as if we were doing the same thing). For example:

• Mirror-Sensory Synesthesia214 is when witnessing someone else’s experience of touch, taste, smell, or pain activates the same parts of our brain (like when we see someone smell something foul and our own olfactory turns on as well).

• Motor-Resonance215 is when witnessing someone do an action causes the same motor-parts of our brains to be activated.

• Emotional Contagion216217 is when we experience someone feeling an emotion, and our brains light up as if we felt the same feeling.218219 This can include triggering the sympathetic nervous system (and the cortisol that it releases).220

Evolutionary speaking, the phenomenon of experiencing what others are experiencing by witnessing them likely occurred for two purposes:221222

• Learning: through the Mirror Neuron System, we can learn to do things by watching someone else do them.223224

• Social skills: through the Mirror Neuron System, we’re able to have empathy for others, which helps us understand them, and work together.225

That being said, mirror neurons don’t only activate when we witness someone’s experience in the moment, but also in the memory of it. Similarly, mirror neurons activate from images and stories, which can transport audiences into whole new realities.226 This transportation is especially powerful when the audience vividly imagines the scene, and when they relate to the characters in the story. Whether the characters are people, animals, or the moon, stories transport us into different views.

As such, the benefits of story-arts can be tremendous for the audience, even to the point of being life changing.227 Here’s how:

Firstly, story-art can support audiences by simulating experiences that:228

• inspire self-appreciation and understanding

• provide hope, and affirm life’s meaning

• support growth with “blueprints for personal change”229

• grow confidence by overcoming challenge and pain230

Story-art also helps audiences change their perspectives by creating scenarios that lower their defenses. By transporting into someone else’s story, we bypass the defenses that may have blocked new understandings.231232

Furthermore, story-art can help audiences by reducing stress. It does this in a couple of ways: Firstly, it can give us a break from our own challenges. A form of mental vacation,233 when we’re transported into another reality, the stressors of our own lives can rest and breathe. Biologically, this can even lower cortisol levels.234

Similarly, story-art can reduce stress through parasocial relationships, which are friendships with characters (and/or creators) who we’ve not met, yet who seem to know us the best. These parasocial relationships can soothe the stress of loneliness,235236237 passing the loving witness from the artist to the audience. Then, as artists evolve with their creations, this friendship supports a mutual evolution.

Finally, story-art can support our relationships by:

• helping us to see from another person’s point of view. This perspective-taking grows empathy and understanding238 which releases oxytocin239 and makes us more trusting.

• helping us to visualize how to navigate our conflicts with peace in mind.240241

• supporting our understanding of society, nature and history242 (which can deepen our ability to care universally)

All of these benefits of story-art happen neurologically as the simulation of others’ experience rewires how the audience sees. So when we view the landscapes of Obata, we too are freed, and when we hear the voice of Tina Turner, we stand-up to succeed. In portraits of pain, and joy and grief, we too find the poetry of making peace.

Ripples of Creative Love & Peace

Thanks to the science of creativity, making art has a very practical application: it’s not just a song, story, poem or picture -it’s an empowered evolution! Through neuroplasticity, making art helps us form a new foundation: to love this life, and all of its pieces. Whereas most adaptations take ages and ages, we can evolve (with neuroplasticity) in just a few pages; in a couple of pictures and a sweet little tune, we have the power -within our lifetime- to create ourselves anew.

Then, when we share our art (that’s made with love in view), we empower the heroic heart in our audience too. Spread like a contagion that touches every scale, from the widest of lenses to the tiniest details -the heart of our art sends ripples. Love is a slow variable that moves through every system, gently bringing peace through its steady rhythm. Thump-thump-thump, my heart is fed by the humble courage of artists who wear their humanity on their sleeve to offer a mirror of love and mercy.

As a human who struggles with life’s conditions, in a world where love can feel so distant, I dedicate this series to all the nerds and artists who’ve helped my heart to find a way through it.

I’m here because of you, and for you.

Thank you.

Read The Whole Series:

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The Imaginarium Fund

Seven Artists Who Were Rejected Before Changing the World

The Imaginarium Fund is a community-driven fund that gives micro-grants to one or more artists each month using 100% of subscription profits. It’s more than funding—it’s a belief that art isn’t a lux…

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a year ago · 5 likes · The Imaginarium Fund

Read the Story (& Science) Behind It ⬇

I think most people would agree that love is an important part of being human (and of making peace), but that doesn’t mean that it comes easy. In this series I’ve been asking: Why? If love’s so important, then why’s it so hard sometimes? Is it even possible to love in the grips of fear? In the pain of rage? In the stress? In the hunger?

In the last article, I offered a resounding: Yes! If our pre-mammalian ancestors found it within themselves to care for their young in the face of their end-times, surely we can find it within ourselves to be kind. Even with the Doomsday Clock1 ticking in the background of the news, love does find a way to help us through.

Still, I wouldn’t say that it happens by accident. Most heroic stories that we hear were cultivated. Mother Theresa didn’t suddenly decide to care for the unwanted -she’d been training her whole life for that kind of calling. Drawn into a religious vocation from a very young age, she practiced selflessness for years before caring for those who made others afraid2.

Similarly, Rick Roscola (who saved 2,700 people from the twin towers on 9/11) didn’t suddenly decide to be a hero. He’d anticipated the attack long before it happened, drilling folks with practices for emergency evacuation. But even that essential foresight didn’t come from nowhere: he’d been priming for it for years. From a young age he admired the heroes of his time, like the D-Day fighters who put their lives on the line. So, he joined the army at the young age of 16, and fought in two wars before his 9/11 calling. Already regarded as a man who kept his cool under fire, he was known for singing songs to keep his platoon together3.

That being said, even as those stories remind us that courage is cultivated (and not inherent -check out How To Be Bold: the Surprising Science of Everyday Courage for more inspiration), I wouldn’t want to paint a picture that would lead us to believe that heroic love only comes to the ready. Oskar Schindler wasn’t regarded as a saint before he saved over a thousand Jewish people from their horrific fate. Before the atrocities of the Nazis had reached their worst, Schindler took “full advantage of the exploitative labor.4” A factory-owner in German occupied Poland, Schindler used Jewish people to make a bigger profit. Indeed, before his heroic acts, Schindler wouldn’t have been considered a moral man: he defaulted on loans, had extramarital affairs, and had been part of the Nazi party for years.

So what was it within him that made him change his ways? Where’d the love come from during those awful days? Furthermore, what kept Mother Teresa going despite her battle with depression5? When odds feel stacked against us, how does the heart keep beating?

No doubt we’ve all got a selfish side next to the part that’s generous. We can all be forgiving, or we can be ruthless. It doesn’t take scratching much deeper than the surface to dig up dirt on the heroes we worship. Each had a dark side that threatened their virtues. We all have a power that can be misused. As such, can we choose what we become? And, if so, why would we want to choose love?

In this article I’ll continue to explore the science behind the dark and light of our nature, and the age-old-questions of how, and why, love is the answer.

Our Conflicting Wires

At the crux of the human condition is the fact that we’ve been wired in opposing directions: we’re made to compete and to cooperate. We’re made to love and to hate. We’re made to withhold and to care. We’re made to hope and to despair.

For some scientists, these conflicting qualities come as the result of a theory called multilayered selection6. In this framework, evolution works on different levels: the individual, familial, and group. In each level, evolution selects traits (and/or behaviors) that may be different.

On the individual level, we’ve evolved to be self-serving. Those who serve themselves (even at the expense of others) are more likely to survive as individuals. It’s this basic instinct for survival that is responsible for our sympathetic nervous system (which can cloud our thinking and makes us defensive quickly -to learn more about this, read the 3rd article of this series). Similarly, it’s on this individual level that we crave pleasure in a dopamine-drive to always feel better. It’s here that we might become aggressive, neglectful, cowardly, or greedy. It’s here that most would point to the shadows of our being.

On the familial level7, we’ve evolved to care for our families, even if it costs us some personal well-being. When we care for our relatives, our genes are more likely to be passed down the generations. It’s here that we’ve developed the bonding hormone called oxytocin, which keeps us together, even when we’re stressin’8. Here, on the familial level, some will point to the origins of our light: the mother’s care, and her protective fight9.

On the group level, we’ve evolved to care for others, even if we’re unrelated, and even if we receive no personal reward10. When we care for those in our group, our group is more likely to survive conflicts with other groups, or disasters that require cooperation. It’s here that we developed the helper’s high11 that floods us with happy hormones every time that we lend a helping hand -the pure altruism that (some have said) creates the promised land.

That being said, though it’s on the familial and group levels that we evolved to love, we weren’t made to love anyone12. From evolution’s perspective, care for our own group makes our group resilient. But for outsiders, we’re made to be suspicious. This phenomena (sometimes referred to as “tend and defend13”) means that the very same hormone associated with love can also cause defensiveness towards those different from us (especially when we’re stressed14).

Consequently, it’s on the familial and group levels that we were made to conform15 so that we can avoid any out-group harm16. This has made us vulnerable to collective blindspots and misunderstandings, keeping us stuck in faulty planning. It’s here that we find outdated cultural practices that backfire and hurt -all because it’s so freaking scary to dissent and divert.

Overall, the challenge (for all of us) is navigating our conflicting impulses: to fight with our siblings for the biggest piece of pie, but if someone else bullies them, to stand by their side; to care for others when they are sick, but to be cautious of those who take advantage. Indeed, it’s not as simple as saying that fear, aggression, and selfishness are always bad and that generosity, compassion and care are always good. If it were that simple, evolution would have ditched those traits by now.

So, how do we use our conflicting impulses to serve our lives, those around us, and life in general?

And perhaps, more importantly, do we even have a choice?

Questions of Free Will

Whether or not humans actually have control over their behaviors has long been a debate in the scientific community (and in religion and philosophy). It’s an important question because the implications are wide-reaching:

If we don’t have a choice, then can we be held accountable to our deeds? If we’ve been hurtful once, are we bad inherently? What hope is there for us to do better if we can’t even choose how we respond to the weather?

If we do have free-will, then what will motivate us to make better choices? Will we do better if we are punished?

With those questions in mind, (and in a continuation of the second article from this series, The Will to Love), here’s some thoughts from the philosophical side of science:

Biological Determinism

The perspective of biological (hard) determinism17 is that our behavior is determined by a combination of our genes and the developmental wiring of our brains (especially in childhood). In short, this theory says that our brains are wired to automatically react before we can consciously respond1819. It asserts that every choice is the consequence of a long chain of events, mostly made of memories2021 As such, no choice can be called “free-will” (because it’s just the effect of everything that came before it). The core idea is simply that consciousness lags. Because awareness only happens after a reaction has already occurred, there’s no way for us to choose our reactions, or what we do with them.

No doubt this perspective is debated within the scientific community (as well as within religion/philosophy), especially because there have been times when biological determinism has been used to justify social injustices22 (which is clearly problematic).

That being said, some biological determinists use the theory to advocate for more justice and empathy (like Robert Sapolsky in his book Behave: the Biology of Humans in Our Best and Worst ). With that in mind, what I appreciate about biological determinism is that fosters compassion, forgiveness and mercy within me: We don’t mean to be buttheads. We’re just wired to be turds sometimes.

What concerns me about this perspective is that it doesn’t leave room for a sense of agency, and agency is essential for the pursuit of meaning (which is central to the human experience). If we don’t have a choice, then how can we pursue that which gives our lives meaning?

What’s more, what hope can there be for peace if so many of us are wired to stink?

Compatibilism

Compatibilism23 is the perspective that determinism does not exclude the possibility of free-will. The concept of emotional regulation, for example, suggests that while we may have involuntary automatic responses, our ability to become aware of those reactions gives us the opportunity to make different choices (either in the moment of gaining awareness, or for the future2425).

With that in mind, neuroplasticity26 says that our brains are inherently changeable; just because our childhoods wired us to respond in certain ways, doesn’t mean that they’ll always be wired that way. As we move through life, we learn new things that wire our brains differently27. By understanding how neuroplasticity works, we can intentionally rewire our brains so that we respond in ways that are more aligned with our values, or more likely to make us successful2829.We can change our habits30 (which could be considered an act of free will).

From this perspective, we may not be able to choose our knee-jerk triggers, but we can make intentional choices after. Though philosophers disagree on definitions of free-will, our ability to become aware of ourselves, and to make new choices, gives us an element of agency that can allow us to shape our lives with meaning, and impact our world with purpose.

That being said, from this perceptive, patience and forgiveness both are key in the process of development. Gaining awareness of our subconscious reactions (and assessing the extent to which they serve our values/purpose) takes time, and is ongoing. Similarly, rewiring our brains takes dedicated practice, wherein we’re bound to slip into old patterns in the process (especially when we’re hurt or tired). But, if we abandon each other for every selfish or hurtful deed, we won’t have the support to make the changes we need.

Of course the challenge here is that both patience and forgiveness require endurance and resilience, which kinda sucks sometimes. Endurance implies the experience of something uncomfortable and resilience implies the experience of hardship. Who wants that? And for what? Why go through all that hullabaloo and strain? Why not just grab a beer and call it a day?

why i keeping aiming for love (even tho it can be a sucha pain in the butt)

Don’t worry: I won’t try to answer that question with any kind of capitalization or tout some kind of moral imperative. I know that this love thing is not easily swayed by logic. Whether we like it or not, the scientific fact is: our brains are much more swayed by emotions than they are reason31 32(remember that lag in consciousness I mentioned?).

I know the feeling: when I feel disrespected, taken advantage of, hurt, or threatened, my immediate response is not lovey-dovey. In fact, sometimes, far after my immediate response passes, I still feel that same pit of disgust, which doesn’t make me rush to send love-letters -that’s for sure.

To overcome that feeling of rage or disgust is not an easy thing to do, and I’m not here to convince you to. Indeed, convincing, in and of itself, is not easy. There’s all kinds of mental blocks that exist in humans that could inhibit any persuading, such as:

• the belief bias33: humans tend to reject information (however accurate) if it contradicts core beliefs.

• the simplicity bias34: humans tend to believe in simple explanations and solutions more than complex ones (even if the complex is more accurate)

• the self-serving bias35: we tend to reject information that goes against our self-image or self-interest

• the confirmation bias36: we tend to ignore information that isn’t what we expect

Furthermore, I understand that in the act of debating (especially when power is the aim), winners get a surge of dopamine37 (like eating ice cream) while losers get a surge of cortisol (like being chased by a lion38). As such, it’s not uncommon for humans to fight to win, even if our logic is faulty (just for the sake of winning).

So, rather than convincing, I’m here to reinforce. For all of us who know that love is so freaking valuable, yet find ourselves in a struggle to achieve it, I’m here to offer reinforcement. It’s not easy to love sometimes, and we don’t always get it right, but to continue aiming anyway is a feat that I put on the heroic scale, an evolutionary achievement of which few can compare. Sure, we might be wired to care for our family, or those who also support us, or those who are in our group (at least in some cases. Not everyone has felt loved by their family), but to love our enemy? Strangers? Nature? That’s beyond the scope of evolution thus far. It’s a stretch (to say the least).

So, if our default mode is not to care, I don’t blame us. But, it is possible to love beyond our limits (a fact that science can’t explain any more that it can explain how our pre-mammalian ancestors figured out that daddies caring for babies in the face of the Great Dying39 might be a better choice than just fending for themselves). Love, in all of its stages, is an evolutionary victory that’s worth celebrating.

That being said, it does feel a bit dramatic to compare humans today to animals who faced the Great Dying, doesn’t it? While I don’t mean to be apocalyptic, our culture is saturated with reflections that project This. Is. It. : We are at the tipping point. Whether the message comes from science articles, the news, movies, or religion, there’s no doubt about it: the culture is saturated with apocalyptic perspectives40. As such, whether or not I believe these are end times, I still have to deal with the psychological impacts of being surrounded by doomsday storylines.

Consequently, every day I utilize my coping mechanisms, of which, reminding myself that love is a legitimate response to the world today (and to every conflict that I have ever encountered, and will ever encounter) has been, and continues to be, extremely helpful.

Along those same lines, it helps me to remember that this is not the first time that a generation has feared the end. In fact, every generation has had their own kind of crisis that called into question their very existence. It helps me to remember their resilience, and what love had to do with it. If our ancestors made it through, we should be able to too (I even wrote a song about it: listen here).

Another one of those coping mechanisms is framing our challenges as an adventure. The hero’s journey brings meaning to our challenges41 (something that Viktor Frankl calls essential to overcoming them)42. Plus, heroic quests also brings commitment (which is essential when things get hairy43).

That being said, in the archetypal framework of the hero’s journey, resistance to the call is common44. Though the world today is calling us into the courage of love, it’s freaking scary. Resistance is understandable (I know I’ve felt it).

What helps in accepting the mission is growing our confidence. If we believe that our tools are worthy, and that we are capable of succeeding, we’re much more likely to accept the call and overcome the challenges it brings45.

To that end, the logic of love is helpful. Understanding why love is so useful has grown my confidence (and hope) more than ever. Ranjay Gulati in How To Be Bold would agree: confidence grows with understanding.

So, without further ado -here’s how I know that love is what I’m here to do:

The Logic of Love

Let’s start with defining the kind of love that I’m talking about here. Since it could be said that there’s lots of different kinds of love (and since people have all kinds of definitions about what it is and isn’t), instead of saying which one is right, I’ll just clarify what love means in this series:

1. I’m not talking about unconditional love. This is because the word unconditional can get confusing, seeming like a love that doesn’t have boundaries. We can hold boundaries and respect others at the same time.

2. I’m not talking about romantic love. Though some might include romantic love within the broader scope of what I am talking about here, it’s important to note that I’m not talking about desire.

3. I’m not talking about savior love. Though love can be a life-saver, it’s not always. Love doesn’t promise outcomes. It can’t save us from pain, death, or guilt/failure (what Viktor Frankl called the “tragic triad46”). If we expect love to save us from suffering, then it’s easy to lose faith in it. The love that I’m talking about here doesn’t safeguard us from challenges, but it does help us to endure, overcome, and make meaning of them.

So what kind of love am I talking about?

I am talking about heroic or resilient love. This kind of love is able to endure the greatest of difficulties and transform challenges into growth and meaning. Out of this growth, this love is able to contribute to the overall resilience and wellbeing of Life (even through losses and changes).

I’m also talking about the Universal love, which includes love ourselves, our families, our communities, our enemies, our whole species, and even all of nature.

Now, with all that clarified, here’s

my super nerdy response to why i choose love:

It starts, ironically, with a word that begins with I. Can you guess it? I’m sure you’ve heard it before as it’s become quite trendy (Hint: We’re all one in the universe, connected eternally).

It’s a complex reality: understanding interdependence requires the ability to hold a multitude of relationships and chains of reactions, on multiple levels of time and space, that interconnect in different ways, simultaneously. This is called systems thinking47. That being said, though systems thinking is certainly possible for humans, it’s not always easy for our brains (which prefer simplicity and immediacy).

Even so, it’s worth the effort because the result of systems thinking is resilience.48 As life is constantly changing (in response to various disruptions and disturbances), systems thinking can help us overcome challenges, increase our longevity, and maintain a sense of wellbeing. To that end, understanding life’s systems is crucial to caring for life as a whole (and for ourselves, as part of that whole).

Now, to explain how these systems work, we’re gonna take a deep dive into ecology. This turn may (in some ways) feel like a tangent within our topic of love, but it’s ultimately necessary in illustrating the workings of interconnection (that ultimately extend to humans). So bear with me -we’re about to get super nerdy.

Resilience Thinking

Though there are many frameworks that help to map system connections, one that I find particularly helpful is called panarchy49. This framework maps systems of interconnection through multiple scales (over time and space) that are nested into each other. One natural example of these scales is surface-water systems, which can be divided into scales such as: an individual creek, watersheds50 (made of many creeks and rivers), and drainage basins51 (which connects many watersheds).

That being said, surface-water systems are inextricably connected to weather systems52 (as they bring water from the sky). Then, weather patterns are affected by patterns of vegetation on land53. For example, forests create cool and humid climates by providing shade, reducing wind speed, and increasing humidity (through the water evaporating from their leaves -called evapotranspiration). This cool and humid area allows waters to accumulate on the forest floor, which supports the forming of creeks and rivers.

Furthermore, huge forests (like the Amazon) provide so much moisture to the air that they create flying rivers54. These flying rivers (which eventually rain down) impact surface-level rivers that drain into the ocean. This impacts the oceans because the huge amount of fresh water that flows into the ocean impacts salinity levels55, nutrient levels56 and ocean currents57. The ocean (which has its own nested systems) then affects global heat distribution and weather5859. This then impacts surface-water systems and forests systems in a huge cycle of interconnected systems within systems.

To understand this even better, one way of talking about the smaller scales within systems is patch dynamics60. In forests, examples of patches are:

• Canopy gaps: these tree-less gaps allow light to reach forest floors. This creates conditions that support meadows.

• Patch understory: this less dense patch of trees allows more light, but still provides some shade. This creates conditions for shade-tolerant shrubs.

• Herbaceous patches: these patches of ferns, sedges and wildflowers can be found in areas of extra moisture, such as near a spring, creek, pond, or even puddles.

• Deadwood Clumps: these are areas where there is an accumulation of dead wood (such as fallen logs or branches) which provides habitat for bugs, slugs and microbes, who break down logs into extra rich soil.

Furthermore, each smaller system is also made of many unique pieces. A creek, for example, includes: water, soil, rocks, logs, fish, amphibians, birds, mammals, insects, microbes, and plants. Amongst those parts, there’s also special relationships (or systems), such as: pollination (made of flowers and pollinators) or the food chain (made of predators and prey). These special relationships may be localized, or they may span through multiple systems by migration patterns.

That being said, within systems each individual plays an important role (called ecosystem functions), such as:

• supporting the water cycles: purifying, shading, releasing or retaining water.

• supporting air quality: absorbing carbon dioxide, releasing oxygen, slowing wind, cooling air or purifying air.

• providing habitat, such as safe places for different animals to live (like thickets for small birds or caves for big mammals).

• supporting reproduction, such as spreading seeds or pollen.

• supporting nutrient cycles: producing organic materials (such as leaves, sticks, logs, rocks or poop)for soil, preventing erosion, breaking down soil, purifying soil or being part of the food web.

With that in mind, one of the reasons that different patches are important is because they host different species (which support different functions). For example, because different plants affect water differently, patches have varying impacts on the composition of creeks, rivers and lakes. For example, some plants have long tap roots that bring water up from deep levels in the ground (called hydraulic lift61). Other plants have webs of roots that help to prevent erosion62 and to maintain the banks of lakes and rivers. This brings us back to noticing how forests impact surface-water systems.

As such, not only are there little systems that are interconnected within larger systems, but those big systems (surface water, weather, oceans, and forests) are also connected to each other, spanning all the way around the world. Within this in mind, resilient systems have features that help to mitigate negative chain reactions so that when a part gets hurt, the interconnected system can be resilient as a whole. Two of these important features are:

• Functional redundancies63: this is when multiple parts of a system perform the same function. In this way, if one of the parts that offers a service gets damaged, there are others that can still perform it.

• Balancing (negative) feedback loops64. These feedback loops support stability with counteractive responses. For example, in predator/prey populations, if the prey population gets bigger, the predator population will also grow (because they have more food). But, if the predator population grows too big, then the prey population will decline (because the predators eat too much). Then, when the prey population declines, the predator population will also decline (because there’s less food). When the predator population declines, the prey population will then increase (because there’s less predators to eat them). But, when the prey population increases, the predator population then grows again in a continuance of the balancing feedback loop.

That being said, systems aren’t always able to stabilize from significant disturbances, such as:

• catastrophic changes that affect multiple systems at multiple scales at the same time (like a natural disaster)

• reinforcing (or positive) feedback loops65. Rather than balancing changes, reinforcing feedback loops amplify changes. For example: the melting of arctic ice creates more melting of the arctic. This happens because the white of the ice reflects sunlight, preventing heat from accumulating. But as ice melts, there’s less white ice to reflect the heat, and more darker waters to absorb it. This creates more warmth in the area. As there’s more warmth, more ice melts, creating less heat-reflective areas, and more heat-absorbing areas, further accelerating the accumulation of warmth and the melting of the ice.

With that in mind, each system goes through adaptive cycles66, which include different phases:

• Exploration: this is a phase of rapid growth, like seedlings growing after a fire.

• Conservation: this is a phase of accumulating resources and maintaining stability. Old growth forests, for example, are in a state of conservation.

• Release: This phase includes a loss of energy/resources (such as the loss of trees).

• Reorganization: This phase includes recovering what was before (such as reseeding the forest) or rebuilding a new dynamic, which is called a regime shift67 (such as a forest changing into a scrubland, savannah or grassland)

• From there, the cycle starts again.

In these adaptive cycle, the shift from conservation (accumulating resources and maintaining stability) to release (loss of resources) is caused by a moment of criticality. Criticality is when a system is no longer able to resist changes; it is the crossing of a threshold or tipping point68.

For example, balancing feedback loops might get overloaded (and even flip into reinforcing feedback loops) by repeated wildfires or extra-hot wildfires69. In a balancing feedback loop, when a small fire happens, the fuel (dead trees, overgrowth, and branches) gets burned up. Then, when the next fire happens, there’s not an acclamation of fuel (which keeps the fires cooler). This balancing feedback loop allows the fire to only burn dead or injured plants, while preserving the overarching conditions of the forest (such as shade trees and a healthy seed bank). In this way, small forest fires acts as a purifier that support the health of the forest as a whole (watch this video to learn more about how the indigenous people of California support healthy forests with this understanding).

But, when fires are suppressed, or when there has been severe drought (causing more dead/dry trees), the fuel-load gets higher, making the fires burn hotter, and killing many trees at once (including mature and healthy ones). This, then, make the environment becomes hotter (due to a lack of shade) and can damage seed-banks (from the extreme heat.)70 As a result, it becomes more difficult for new trees to regrow. This can create a reinforcing feedback loop. For example, as a loss of trees results in a loss of moisture7172, the forest becomes more susceptible to fire, and to the loss of more trees. This continued loss of trees then leads to a continued decline in moisture, more fires, less trees, and so on.

That being said, all adaptive cycles within interconnected systems impact each other in one of two ways:73

Remember: Remembering happens when the larger scale is not only able to withstand small-scale changes, but is also able to support the small scale reorganization in becoming what it once was (like when seed banks and animals work together to replant a patch of burned forest).

Revolts: When systems are not able to withstand small-scale changes, it’s called a revolt. Here, smaller-scale changes create fundamental changes on larger scales. A famous historical example of a revolt was in Yellowstone (when wolves were hunted to extinction). This loss on the small-scale (one species) caused a cascade of changes, transforming complex wetlands into degraded streams74. Here’s what happened: when the wolves were extinguished, the elk population grew much larger than it had been (because the predator/prey feedback loop was disrupted). This caused elk to over-graze on the aspen and willow seedlings that beavers depend on. As the trees weren’t able to mature, beavers didn’t have the resources that they needed to build their dams, forcing them to disappear from the region. But, without the beaver dams to slow and spread water, the wetlands turned into narrow streams (with increasing erosion on the banks). This erosion impacted the water-quality of the streams. All these changes combined to ultimately create a regime shift in which grasslands repopulated the dry areas, changing the makeup of the ecosystem entirely (though some of the ecosystem is being restored today as wolves have been reintroduced toYellowstone75).

With all that in mind, systems thinking supports resilience, first by identifying:

• Dependencies between parts

• Causal relationships76 (when a change in one part of the system causes a change in another part)

• Time delays77 (when a change in one part of the system effects the others, but not immediately)

• Potential thresholds / tipping points

• Feedback loops and patterns over time

• Slow variables78. In an environmental context, some slow variables include nutrient cycle rates and water tables. In human systems, some slow variables include cultural norms or morale.

• Critical functions (such as all the different ecosystem services in a forest, or the different industries in a city).

Then, with these critical parts of the system identified, systems thinking supports resilience by:

• Aiding diversity: diversity creates resilience through an increase in functional redundancy (in which all critical functions are more likely to be fulfilled). Furthermore, diversity creates new forms of resilience through the formation of niches79.

• Identifying and responding to negative changes on the small scales as soon as possible. By early detection and response, problems can be resolved before they have significant impacts on larger levels.

• Making small-scale changes that can cause positive cascades into larger systems.

• Caring for slow variables over time.

(Check out the amazing free resources for developing the Habits of Systems Thinkers that’s provided by the Water Centers for Systems Thinking)

With that in mind, a great example of systems-thinking in action is the restoration of beavers in Scotland. In this case, the extinction of beavers in Scotland caused environmental degradation that was similar to what happened with the loss of beavers in Yellowstone, including: wetland loss, loss of biodiversity, river erosion, and lowered water quality. But, many of these negative impacts are being reversed by the reintroduction and protection of beavers 8081. Though the tension between beavers with humans remains a point of contention (beavers can be damaging to human enterprises by causing structural damage with their log-cutting and floods with their dams), beaver relocation programs8283 prevent the killing of beavers in human-populated areas by relocating them to wild areas that are in need of their services.

In all cases, all progress is encouraging.

With that in mind, humans have, indeed, had success in using systems thinking to support environmental and human resilience. One of the most significant examples is the Loess Plateau Watershed Rehabilitation Project in China. Here’s what happened:

Millenia of deforestation for agriculture and grazing livestock led to the mass removal of vegetation. This caused extremely high levels of erosion and surface-level run-off. This increased flooding, which carried excessive sediment into the Yellow River84, raising the river bed to sit above the nearby towns. To mitigate this problem, people built levees85. But, when these levees were breached (in major floods) disaster ensued, killing millions of people (overtime)86.

To address the crisis, starting in the 1990s, the Loess Plateau Watershed Rehabilitation Project87 (supported by the World Bank and the Chinese Government) began the massive undertaking to restore the degraded area (which was roughly the size of France and home to more than 50 million people88). This effort included building reservoirs and warping dams, installing large-scale terracing, planting trees and shrubs, and converting steep, fragile croplands back into grasslands and forests. These efforts increased vegetation cover from 17% to over 34%, which drastically reduced the amount of sediment flowing into the Yellow River.

Furthermore, farmers were incentivized to move from grain farming (on steep, eroding slopes) to high-value (and sustainable) orchard farming89 and improved livestock management. As a result, participating households saw their annual incomes double. Furthermore, by converting to more intensive and efficient farming, the labor requirement decreased while productivity increased, allowing for better quality of life and new economic opportunities. Overall the project improved food security and reduced the risk of devastating floods, directly improving the livelihoods for over 3 million people90.

With all that in mind, though environmentalism can, at times, feel anti-human, in fact it is extremely pro-human. Nature, as a whole, doesn’t judge the changes that happen to it; it’s not mad at the asteroids or volcanos for causing mass extinctions. It takes the punches as they come, and evolves with it91. Humans, however, do have a preference. We care about maintaining the systems that we depend on for our existence. As such, all environmental efforts are ultimately aimed at human preservation. In fact, I think it would be helpful to call it envirohumanism.

To that end, love for the environment means loving humans (because if humans aren’t well, then they can’t take care of the Earth). And love for humans means love for the environment (because if the environment isn’t well, then it can’t provide for humans).

Interconnection In Social Systems

With all that in mind, social systems function very much like environmental systems of interdependence where different scales are nested into each other. For example: individuals offer different services to their families (some might naturally be good at solving conflict while others might be good at cooking or maintenance). Then there’s specific relationships within families that fulfill special functions (like parents who work and grandparents who babysit). Those families then exist in neighborhoods, nested into cities, nested into states, countries, global regions, and ultimately the whole world.

As such, even one person can make a world of difference, as was so beautifully illustrated in the Christmas classic It’s A Wonderful World92.

Where’d we all be without George Bailey?

Furthermore, just like in ecosystems, human impact can span through multiple systems. That being said, these interconnections are not always easy to see in a world that is so densely packed with complexity. For example, the semiconductor chip shortage (from 2020-2023)93 affected 169 different industries94 with serious lags and significant losses in revenue. It also contributed significantly to global inflation95, increasing costs across the board. What’s more, the shortage itself was caused by cascades from other interconnected systems such as the pandemic, trade conflict, severe storms, droughts, and war96.

With this is mind, everybody who works in every industry matters immensely, from the cleaners to the managers, the planners to the producers, the assistants to the directors, the designers to the builders, the mothers and fathers, the sisters and brothers, the grandpas and grandmas, the aunties and uncles, the sons and daughters, the best friends, the neighbors- we are all in it together, and each and every one of us matters.

Here, love for others is actually love for ourselves, and love for ourselves is actually love for others: If we are to be well, we need those who we depend on to also be well. Conversely, for others to be well, they need us (who they depend on) to also be well.

The Universal Heart of Interconnection

To that end, the systems-thinking of universal love:

• recognizes the inherent value of each person

• resists blaming individuals and instead looks at patterns in systems that create conditions for specific behaviors/actions

• and understands that change takes time

That being said, many of us have not been trained in systems thinking, and even if we have been, it would be impossible for any one person to know all the workings of all the systems (humans and ecological) that impact each other in the world. This makes it hard to see or understand our interconnection (even when we study it). As such, universal love can seem irrelevant.

It reminds me of a review that I read the other day (for one of the nerdy books that I read on altruism97) where I found a meaningful question: this reviewer wanted to know why he would ever be altruistic. While he acknowledged that the book was helpful for someone who already wanted to become more altruistic, he wasn’t convinced that altruism was a good direction. He said that, contrary to studies, he doesn’t feel happy after helping others; he feels drained (I think Mother Teresa would have empathized. Despite her great services, she battled depression her whole life). Plus, any amount of time that he spent volunteering for a soup kitchen would just be more time away from his family. Why would he do that?

As his question seemed sincere and genuine (He wasn’t rude about it. He seemed curious ), I thought about it for a while, and here’s my response:

Caring for those in the soup kitchen is caring for your family. On the most basic level, each human being carries enormous potential, that, when nurtured, can make essential contributions to the whole. That being said, life can create circumstances that make it hard for us to care for our own needs, let alone to offer our gifts to others. Still, we have value, even at our lowest. Though our contributions when we’re wounded may not be visible, our value and potential for incredible contribution remain. Like fruit trees in a drought, when our conditions change, so does our ability to put food on the table.

Along the same lines, the principle of diversity (as a factor of resilience) calls for as many of us to realize our potential as possible; the more of us who can contribute positively, the stronger we are as a whole. What would have become of the world if Abraham Lincoln wasn’t able to survive his childhood poverty98? Or if George Washington Carver (the agricultural scientist who was central to restoring southern soils by introducing crop rotations after the dust bowl) wasn’t able to survive his impoverished beginnings99?

That being said, anytime someone in society doesn’t get their needs met, they are more likely to live in chronic stress. But chronic stress doesn’t always elicit peaceful behaviors. As such, walking down safe streets means caring for homeless people’s needs. Research shows that community welfare reduces community stress and improves safety100. So, if we want our families to feel safe in our neighborhood, it’s important that those in our neighborhood feel safe101.

A similar logic can be applied to loving our enemies: First of all, regardless of what harm someone may have done, neuroplasticity affirms that everyone has a potential to transform their brains to respond in more caring ways. In fact, sometimes folks who’ve transformed from being harmful to helpful carry a special kind of strength and compassion that isn’t found in those who haven’t had the same transformation (such as reformed gang members who help with gang prevention, or people who had addictions who help recovering addicts). For example, Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin was sentences to 15 years in prison for robbery102. But, during his time in prison, he participated in Rehabilitation through the Arts (RTA), which helped him reconnect with his humanity through theater. Then, after being released, he began working for RTA so that that he could support other inmates103 (the movie Sing Sing was made about this program, and you can also watch a documentary about it called Dramatic Escape).

That being said, it’s worth noting that when it comes to loving our enemies, hating folks tends to make us less safe, not more. This is because when we hate or threaten others, they tend to feel even less safe with us. This makes them more defensive, and likely more irrational (which does not make us safer). Loving them, however, presents the possibility (though not guaranteed) that they will either: feel less threatened by us, and therefore act less aggressively, or that they will see our humanity, and become more caring. Again, it’s not a promise, but at least it’s a possibility.

For example, Daryl Davis (a black man), befriended members of the Ku Klux Klan by sitting with them, listening to them, and giving them respect; despite their hateful views, his heart was courageous. As a result, many decided to leave the organization, some offering him their robes to renounce their racism104.

Similarly, it was compassion that led the founders105 of Life After Hate to leave white supremacy. Here’s a couple of their stories: Arno Michaelis, a former white power skinhead, remembers being deeply impacted by a surprising kindness. Despite his hateful beliefs and appearance, a Black McDonald’s cashier refused to hate him106. This set the stage for his transformation107. Similarly, Angela King, a former member of violent white extremism, had a change of heart while in prison. Instead of being met with contempt from inmates of color, their kindness transformed her hate with a loving power108.

Indeed, compassion is a powerful form of emotional intelligence that can provide effective responses in conflict. As Arno Michaelis said, “When I talk about compassion, I talk about it as a tactical maneuver,” he said. “It’s a means of accomplishing an objective. And the objective is to bring about a society where all people are valued and included…And the way you do that is to bear witness to suffering, especially to people who don’t seem to deserve that witness.109”

With that in mind, in the book Talking to the Enemy: Faith, Brotherhood, and the (un)Making of Terrorists, anthropologist and political advisor Scott Atran discusses how understanding the true motives of terrorists (and the cultural conditions that create them) helps to better address terrorism. He explains that when we misunderstand their motives (seeing them as immoral nihilist or religious extremists), we risk perpetrating terrorism rather than quelling it. From his direct research studying multiple terrorist groups around the world, he found that most are actually small groups of close-knit individuals. Rather than being recruited by a centralized organization, they’re just people who seek a sense of purpose; they’re folks who crave belonging and dignity (just like all of us) in the face of circumstances that can feel unjust. As such, many terrorists are actually motivated by morality (though misdirected, obviously). With that in mind, efforts to eradicate terrorists that include bribes or violence tend to offend their “sacred values”, and deepen their commitment to terrorism. Conversely, Altan found that gestures of respect, dignity, and apology open the doors to reconciliation much more effectively. Overall, he suggests that by humanizing terrorists, and looking systemically, there is hope for peace.

With this in mind, many rehabilitations program are not only focused on providing folks with dignity and respect, but also with opportunities express universal love themselves. For example, in a Missouri maximum-security prison, inmates enrich their lives by making quilts for foster children (watch the documentary The Quilters about it ). Similarly, in Colorado, inmates who are re-entering society gain confidence when they’re offered the opportunity to rehabilitate rescue dogs for children with medical needs (watch the PBS special about it Nothing Safer). Similarly, the Sustainability in Prisons Project offers inmates an opportunity to participate in environmental efforts, often leaving inmates with a renewed sense of self-worth and meaning (read some of their stories here).

With this in mind, universal love is a more than two-way street of positivity; it’s a web of benefits for everyone: from those who are being loved (and everyone connected to those being loved), to those who are doing the loving (and everyone connected to those doing the loving). In all ways, in all systems, for all the pieces: universal love brings tremendous benefit.

Humanity’s Heroic Call to the Empowered Evolution of Love

All that being said, no matter how much we may understand the logic of loving strangers, our enemies, or the environment, universal love can still be very difficult to achieve. I’d even say it’s an adaptation (which usually takes ages and ages). Sure, we know how to care for our kin (at least generally speaking). And, sometimes we can care for those who’ve got our backs. But to care for those who are a pain-in-our-necks? That’s beyond the scope of what we’ve evolved to do. We’re not made to love our enemies, let alone the freaking fish. Why should I care about the river when I’ve got laundry from three kids?

Scientifically speaking, the challenge is that our brains have evolved to:

• prefer simplicity over complexity

• prioritize emotion over logic

• seek personal gain over lending a hand

• and forego the long-term for immediate demands

As such, universal love can feel pretty far removed from our everyday lives, making it easy for love to be upstaged by immediate strife. Here’s the problem: If A creates B. Then, B creates C. Then C creates D. How can I care about U if I’m still worried about I?

So, though we can point our fingers at short-sightedness or selfishness, the reality is that such characteristics are really quite human.

The challenge is that the conditions we evolved under are vastly different than the ones that we find ourselves in today, calling for different strategies for resilience. For example, under the conditions that we evolved in, human violence was limited to muscles and hand-tools, making mass murder more difficult. But, now, with automatic weapons, our knee-jerk reaction can result in the murder of many in seconds. Furthermore, in-group/out-group dynamics combined with hierarchy conflicts can result in slaughter like never before, or even mass extinction (as nuclear winter could be caused by nuclear conflict110).

As such, universal love is the next phase of our evolution. It’s the next scale: First love came intimately, with our family. Then it scaled out to our group and community. Now, as we’ve become global, so do our hearts, as we grow love for every single part (even those that are hard). It’s humanity’s heroic challenge: to develop the restraint and generosity that’s needed to serve Life, transcending the limits of our hearts and minds so that we can be the Earth’s greatest keepers, driven by the love that holds us together.

Though this is a tall order for brains that evolved to prefer simplicity, the short-cut is simple: I’ve seen enough proof that everything in life serves a purpose that I don’t need to understand every casual relationship for me to trust that there’s always more value than meets the eye, and that your wellbeing is always related to mine.

Mother Teresa, for example, may not have known exactly what purpose it served to help people who were already dying. How would they contribute to life if they weren’t even surviving? Similarly, Oskar Schindler and Rick Roscola didn’t need summaries of the skills and talents of everyone they saved. They just knew the value of life, and trusted the empathy of grace.

Indeed, systems of life are so flippin’ vast and complex that there’s no way that any of us can fully grasp our impact. As such, I may not always understand why or how love matters, but I can trust, unequivocally, that it does.

That being said, the heroics of universal love don’t necessarily result in immediate applause. In fact, due to lag-times, we might not ever see what our hearts have caused. As such, universal love can feel extremely lonely, unfair, and even painful (which can be discouraging to our reward-systems, and make it hard to be faithful).

For that reason, with every heartbreak and clench of my fists, when my heart-rate rises in terror and fits, I remind myself that I’m here for this:

To find a way to love it all, through the ups and the downs, the rise and fall.

It’s a practice, and a miracle.

Though we may not be born heroes, and we might not even have the inclination, our lives can become heroic with a little love and patience. Heroics don’t just happen in big and scary times -they happen in all the little things that merge our hearts and minds:

Every time I consider someone else’s needs in the face of my own challenges, when I restrain my impulses for the sake larger systems,

When I become aware of myself with love and mercy, then extend that awareness to those around me,

When I feel wronged, yet resist retaliation with compassionate boundaries and forgiveness

I build my courage (and power) to live in love, as a feat of nature and the return of the dove-

Peace grows here.

Even so, how we do it is a bit of a mystery. Though there are tons of tools and practices that help immensely, I’ve still gotta work on it -certainly! I tend to run cold in the morning (and will hardly say hello). When I get my feelings hurt, I still tend to withdraw. I can still be blunt in my delivery; and when it comes to gluten-n-cheese-free pizza, I can still get greedy.

Yet there’s still something in me that continues to aim, even in the face of failure, heartbreak and pain. Though I may falter, one thing is certain: my love gets stronger in your reflection:

To you this song is dedicated.

In our darkest moments, may love find us mercifully.

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Read the Story Behind It ⬇

Sometimes love feels utterly hopeless, impossible even.

This is why, as ruthless as life can be at times, everyday I remind myself that life does -in fact- still have a caring side. It’s what keeps me going: If I didn’t believe in love, there’d be no way that I’d put in the effort or take the risks to keep my heart beating in the face of everything that hurts and scares me (which is a lot).

Still, it can be tough to believe in something that can feel so far away. In the last article of this series, I asked if love is even possible when life gets scary. The science of our minds (and daily doom scrolling) can make it seem unlikely.

So, I’ve been taking a look at our history where I’m grateful to have found plenty of proof for love’s relentless victory:

In the face of life’s greatest threats, the heart really does keeps us going.

Here’s (some of) the story:

The Evolutionary Victory of Caring

Despite all the selfish, competitive and outright violent instincts that make love difficult for mammals (like us), caring for each other has long been a key component of our survival, and of life in general. It’s an evolutionary strategy. From plants (like sunflowers) who kindly share root resources with their neighbors1 to worker bees who devote their lives to serving their queen2, supporting each other’s wellbeing is a legitimate approach for overcoming some of life’s toughest challenges.

For us mammals, care-for-others goes back before we were even warm-blooded. It’s thought, for example, that therapsids (the cold-blooded ancestors of mammals) were able to survive the “Great Dying” (about 20 million years before the dinosaurs) because they cared. At a time when 90% of life on Earth was lost due to massive and sustained volcanic eruptions3, instead of freaking out and trying to hoard every itty bitty sun-fried kale chip that they could rummage up, our super-dooper great-great grandfathers ^{(to the 15th power)} began to take care of their young. Daddies to the recuse! By fathers caring for the kiddos, not only were the kids able to grow up strong, but mamma got to save all her energy for pushing out new babies (a strategy that can be “advantageous in times of crisis4”). In fact, this kind of parental care and teamwork “may have saved mammals and their ancestors from mass extinction events countless times.5” (Check out the new documentary Mammal Origins from PBS)

Then, while dinosaurs roamed the earth, our little mammal ancestors (who inherited the keys for lactation from their egg-moisturizing ancestors) further developed lactation6 as a way of avoiding interactions with the big scary dinosaurs (cuz if mama can make food for the babies inside of her body, then the babies don’t need to forage as often). Lactation also helped our little mammalian ancestors to survive the dinosaur extinction as lactation allowed babies to be nourished when resources were otherwise very scarce7. So, despite the fact that lactation comes with significant costs for mothers (it leeches their nutrients and makes them more vulnerable to predators), our great-great (extra great) grandmothers took one for the team so that -one day- we all could have the luxury of ice cream.

But this kind of care for our kids didn’t stop there. Humans took parenting to the next level when we became bipedal. Being able to walk on two feet had enormous evolutionary advantages, such as seeing over tall grasses, traveling long distances, and freeing up our hands to carry tools and babies8. However, as bipedalism narrowed our pelvises, it created a problem: How can such big brains come out of such little spaces? 9 Evolution’s solution: Birth babies who are born with little brains (that aren’t fully developed yet).

Though recent discoveries have challenged the “Obstetrical Dilemma” by saying that the real evolutionary force that drove our premature births was not our pelvis sizes but competition for energy resources (between the gestating baby and the mother)10, the end-result was still a game-changer: brains that significantly develop after they’re born. This development of our brains as children (instead of in the wombs) gave rise to humans as learners who can rapidly change and adapt to the world around them in real time11- one of the keys to human intelligence and resilience12 (nowadays scientists call this neuroplasticity, which I’ll talk more about in the last article of this series).

However, this learning power didn’t come without a cost. When humans started growing their brains primarily outside of the womb, mothers became evermore vulnerable to the stresses of raising their children. Evolution’s solution? Cooperative Breeding1314. The presence of helpless babies gave rise to social support systems made of fathers, grandmothers, and even folks who weren’t related! Everyone pitched in while the little-kiddie-brains ate all the food and ran around causing a ruckus (without making any meaningful contribution).

Indeed, little by little, life for humans became more and more dependent on folks caring for each other, despite the costs. In science, this is called biological altruism: when the cost of caring for another is greater than the benefits that are gained for the individual that’s giving15. In regular-people talk, we might call this love.

However, from an evolutionary point of view, caring for others doesn’t always make sense unless it’s directly related to supporting the survival of our DNA. This is because the theory of evolution16 has led some to believe that the big purpose of life is to survive and secure the continuation of our genes (through reproduction)17. Within this theory, it makes sense that mothers and fathers might take some hits for kids that carry their DNA (in science this is called kin selection.18).

But not all care in nature is limited to our kin. There are many examples of animals who also help non-relatives, as long as the help is reciprocated. Vervet monkeys, for example, have been found to “aid unrelated individuals if those individuals have behaved affinitively toward them in the recent past.19” In science, this is called reciprocal altruism20: I’ll scratch yours, if you scratch mine.

What’s not well understood in science, however, is the pure altruism of giving to strangers without any expectation of return (a behavior that has a remarkably high level of occurrence in humans compared to other primates21). One theory that seeks to explain this phenomena is that groups with altruistic members are more likely to survive (as a group) than groups with more selfish members22. It’s a pretty plain-sight explanation that most of us are probably familiar with: groups tend to be stronger when they work together.

The problem with this theory, however, is that even one bad-apple can spoil the bunch. Throw one free-loader into the mix and it corrodes the whole system, draining those who give freely while benefiting those who contribute little, but take a lot. We all know the kind. We’ve all worked on school projects. From an evolutionary point of view, this creates a problem: natural selection may favor groups who cooperate over groups who don’t, but within the group itself, natural selection seems to favor the selfish.

For many of us, this kind of spoiled altruism has made us jaded. It reminds me of a popular book that offered a clear directive: if you wanna get anywhere in life, you gotta be willing to take advantage of others. Though I won’t name the book (maybe you can guess it), it became a cultural phenomenon that received extremely polarized reviews, some saying that it was the most empowering book they ever read while others criticized it for selfish immorality. Personally, I could see both sides of the story, and was interested in what the author was intending. So, I listened to the author in a few podcasts and interviews until it became clear where the author was coming from, and what they meant to do: they’d been taken advantage of when they’d been kind, and they’d grown sick of getting cut in line.

Unsurprisingly, the resulting book was not a lovey-dovey guide for how to care for others. It was a “realistic” perspective that was made to empower. In a world of predators and prey, be the predator. Duh.

I get it: when we’ve given ourselves to love only to be left with crumbs, how do we continue to trust?

From the individual’s point of view, altruism just gets you screwed.

And yet, it happens -a lot, actually. Everyday someone pays the bridge toll for the car behind them. Everyday someone hands a homeless person a few bucks. Everyday people donate to causes that don’t directly benefit them. Some folks even go into full-on super-hero mode, risking their own lives to help others, like those who helped pull folks out of the twin towers, or Mother Theresa who put herself at risk of illness so that she could take care of the abandoned23.

I’m reminded of Viktor Frankl, a psychotherapist who was a prisoner in Nazi concentration camps. In his book, Man’s Search for Meaning, Frankl tells his stories of how he survived the horrors of the concentration camp, some of which would be considered pure altruism. For example, on once occasion, instead of taking a chance to escape, he volunteered to put his life at risk by caring for dying men who had an infectious disease. But, at that point, Frankl was no longer alive to survive: he was looking for meaning. In a reality where prisoners regularly ran into the wire (a heartbreakingly hopeless method of committing suicide), it was meaning (not safety) that helped Frankl to survive.

From a neurological perspective, however, Viktor’s story is puzzling: when our brains and bodies have been so abused, we’re unlikely to take a caring point-of view. Trauma can be utterly debilitating. Studies show24 that it’s normal for humans to become selfish when we’re stressed.

So what made Viktor different?

In the theory that he developed after he was freed (called Logotherapy), Frankl asserts that psychological healing is not found in becoming more successful or safe, but in the pursuit of meaning: Making a meaningful contribution. Giving meaningful love. Overcoming meaningful challenges.

With this in mind, perhaps the reason that unconditional love doesn’t make evolutionary sense is because we’re looking at it off-center:

What if life isn’t only about surviving and passing on genes? What if there’s more to life that gives it meaning?

For me, this meaning has come in love. I know it sounds sappy, but it’s true. When life gets rough, it’s loving you that gets me through.

Still, it’s not always easy. Every day feels like some kind of extended boot camp for the heart. Love can feel like an exercise when life is hard: a treadmill that makes us sweat while running around in circles; love can feel like it’s going nowhere fast, despite all the hurdles.

So even though love is absolutely what gives my life meaning, it can still be hard to keep my heart beating. In this series, I’ve been asking: Why?

If love’s so important, then why’s it so hard sometimes?

In the first article of this series, I explored the confusing question of what love actually is. How can we love if our aim is clouded?

In the second article, I explored will power. Can we force ourselves to love in our darkest hour?

In the third article, I looked at the blocks: When I’m scared, why does my heart get locked?

Now, I’m looking for hope. Sure, we’ve all got mammal brains that get confused in modern society, and that make it hard for us to love when we’re scared and stressed, but we’ve made it this far, haven’t we? Though the Doomsday Clock25 has been set at just minutes (or seconds) before midnight for years now, I find it amazing that we are, in fact, still here. Perhaps we’re bruised, and we may feel broken, but against the odds, we are persevering. In light of it all, I find humanity to be quite amazing.

Still, while it’s nice to look on the bright side, there’s certainly a dark one too: When I’m at the end of my rope, what do I hold on to? How do I keep my head up when the sky is falling? In the grips of grief, how does my heart keep beating?

With that in mind, coming up in this series, I’ll share some of the science behind the heart’s resilience, which can be found (perhaps surprisingly) in emotional intelligence. The science of emotional intelligence confirms, with great confidence, that we can love -even through our toughest moments. With practice, patience, and forgiveness, we are capable of loving through this.

Still, peace can be hard to imagine amidst the wars and polarization, the lonely hearts and the faces screaming. I can’t blame anyone for losing hope, for throwing in the towel, or letting go.

I have.

But the amazing thing about love is that it never gives up, even when we, ourselves, have called it done. I know this true because it happened to me- you can’t imagine how much I hated the mirror I’d see. But slowly and surely my heart has defrosted as I found a friend, even in my reflection.

It came as a bit of a miracle. Though I have, indeed, studied and practiced, in my darkest hour, Something Else kept me going: a whisper that arose like a caring compass, a mysterious guide that led me through it.

It makes me think about those pre-mammalian daddies who cared for their young. Had they seen that that before? Had it been done? Whether they inherited parental association from their varanopid ancestors26, or they were the first in our line to come together, something in them, from god-knows-where, helped them figure out how to care.

Nowadays, there’s a lot of help for wounded hearts as scientists and psychologists have been studying hard. With that in mind, upcoming in this series I’ll share an overview of emotional intelligence -which offers nerdy possibilities for holding onto love, even when we’re panicked. What I love about the emotional intelligence model is that it asserts that no one is ever born with it (or the love that comes of it). Instead, it’s something that we can grow at any age, just like learning an instrument. Even the stodgiest of grey hairs can soften the eyes. Even the hardest of hearts can tenderize.

It gives me hope, for my own hardened heart, and for all of us who crave peace but find it so freaking hard.

But before I dive into the research ravines of how emotional intelligence can give us meaning and make us resilient, I wrote a song to celebrate the mystery behind it. Though science can see when care came onto the scene, what’s not known is where it came from, or how it came to be. Adaptations27 are amazing like that: right in the moment when we’re about to lose everything, when life has changed so extremely drastically, when we can’t rely on what we’ve been to carry us into our new conditions, somehow we change or figure it out, despite every reason to despair and doubt.

Whether we call it intelligence or mutant genes, I just can’t deny the mystery:

Isn’t it amazing how love shows up in history?

In our darkest moments, may love find us mercifully.

Read The Whole Series:

Listen to Love Songs to Our Nature

(and read the stories and science behind the songs)

Love Songs to Our Nature

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After years of raising my fist in the so-called good-fight, one thing has become abundantly clear: it’s not hard to see how much love is needed in the world, and it’s easy to promote love as a path to peace. In my life, however, it’s not been easy to actually live lovingly. Sure, it’s easy to love those who love me, at least when my life is going nicely. But, as soon as life gets tough, it becomes harder to love, even those who have loved me the most (let alone those who’ve challenged me or treated me unkindly) -never mind loving myself.

In this series, I’m asking: Why?

If love is so essential to life, why is it so dang difficult?

I’m asking because I’ve found that expecting love to be easy is one of the main things that makes it hard. There’s something about understanding love’s challenges that warms the frozen bits of my heart.

With that in mind, in the first article of this series, I explored the confusing question of what love actually is. How can we love if it’s not even clear what we’re aiming for? In the last article, I explored the question of will. Even if we do figure out what love is, is it something that we can will ourselves to do? Can we convince, or force, ourselves to love? In this article, I continue that question by looking more closely at emotions. If there’s one thing that has gotten in the way of my heart, it’s hurt feelings -and fear of the dark.

So, let’s nerd out on the questions:

Why am I feeling these feelings? and Why do they interrupt my heart?

We’ll start at the top: Why am I feeling these feelings?

First of all, it probably goes without saying that we’re not the only ones who are confused about our feelings. Even super-smart scientists are still in a big-fat debate about what emotions are and how they work. As a relativity new field, the study of emotions can get as emotional as the topic itself; in more ways than one: it’s a touchy subject (if you’d like to read a historical review of our scientific understanding of emotions, the first 5 chapters of The Emotional Brain by Joseph LeDoux do a good job of explaining why researching the science of emotions can be such a maze).

That being said, though there are lots of theories that aim to explain emotions (not all of which are in agreement), since my general orientation as a nature-nerdy artist is to look though the lens of our nature, in this article I’ll start by exploring:

How have emotions developed to serve us as mammals in an ecosystem?

So get comfy, put on your ugly sweater, pull up your pants past your bellybutton, and make sure that your lenses are bigger than your face cuz we’re about to get super nerdy.

Feelings that Help Us Survive: the Evolutionary Function of Emotions

In summary, here’s what I’ve gathered from evolutionary psychologists: emotions help us to survive1. They protect us from danger. They motivate us to get our needs met (especially when meeting those needs is challenging). They bond us to each other (which is essential as social animals). And they calm us down so that we may rest and restore our bodies.

As emotions are functions of survival, many of them occur through distinct biological systems that are automatic (involuntary and unconscious). Serving different survival functions, they happen through different biological circuits (which is part of why they’re so difficult to study as a general field)2. Some of these differences include different hormones and chemicals. “Feel Good” chemicals3, for example, include dopamine (for pleasure and motivation), serotonin (for happiness and mood stabilization), oxytocin (for social connection), and endorphins (for pain relief and pleasure). “Stress” chemicals include: cortisol (linked with anxiety and irritability), and adrenaline and noradrenaline (linked with surprise, fear, and/or anger).

Though “happy” and “stress” chemicals happen through different brain circuits, they’re still interconnected through the autonomic nervous system (and all the regions of the brain that trigger and regulate it). The autonomic nervous system helps the body to maintain stability (or homeostasis) by allocating energy to the different functions of the body based on what’s most needed in the moment, and what’s predicted to be needed in the near future. It’s divided into two branches: the sympathetic nervous system (also known as fight-or-flight) and the parasympathetic nervous system (also known as rest-and-digest).

Each of these two branches (the sympathetic and the parasympathetic system) are triggered by external conditions that signal either: a lot of energy is going to be needed (to fight or to flee), or that the coast is clear and it’s safe to rest.

When fight-or-flight (defense mode) is triggered by a perceived danger, the sympathetic nervous system prepares for action by triggering the release of large amounts of adrenaline and norepinephrine that do a few things to prepare the body to flight or flee, including4:

• speeding up the breath and opening the small airways of the lungs (to get more oxygen and to become more alert)

• speeding up the heart rate and pushing blood towards the muscles (so they can function better)

• slowing digestion by directing blood away from the digestive system towards the muscles (again, so that they can preform better)5

• releasing glucose and fats for more energy

• dilating the pupils (for better vision)

Shortly after the immediate surge of adrenaline, the HPA (hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal -say that three times fast) releases cortisol to sustain energy for a prolonged threat. Cortisol boosts your energy, keeps you awake and alert, regulates blood pressure, and (in small spurts) decreases inflammation6. All of this supports the physiological needs of a body that is in defense.

Conversely, when rest-and-digest is triggered by a sense of safety, the parasympathetic nervous system7 supports restoration by:

• increasing blood flow to the digestive system

• slowing heart rate and breath

• constricting pupils and increasing saliva production

• halting the release of stress hormones (such as adrenaline, norepinephrine, and cortisol)8.

But, wait- what does all this have to do with emotions, again?

According to scientists who adhere to The Theory of Constructed Emotion9, when these involuntary physiological survival responses are felt/experienced (through what’s called interoception10: the ability to feel internal senses), they’re often interpreted as emotions. How these feelings are interpreted changes depending on the social context and culture. For example, similar physical feelings that are caused by fight-or-flight mode could be interpreted as fear, anger, surprise, anticipation, disgust, overwhelm, anxiety, panic, and/or sadness. Though we may not notice it, the same physical feelings often arise when we’re late for work, when we’ve been startled by a spider, or when we’ve tripped and ripped our favorite pair of jeans. But, we don’t think of those experiences as creating the same emotion. Because the context changes, the name that we give the feeling also changes (even though the physical experience is often very similar); in this case, we might call it stressed, spooked, or frustrated.

Similarly, the feelings caused by a parasympathetic nervous system response may be interpreted as calm, serenity, contentment, joy or happiness. If we’re sitting in perfect weather in front of a gently flowing river, we might call it serene. If we’re holding hands with our honey pie, we might call it happy. If we’re singing our favorite song with our bestie, we might call it joy. Again, though the physical feelings are similar (though they might not be identical), in different contexts, they’re given different names. That being said, scientists don’t yet agree on what universal human emotions are, especially as some cultures have names for emotions that aren’t directly translatable into other cultures11.

Even so, understanding how and why our nervous system is activated is central to understanding our emotional experiences, reactions -and our capacity for love and peace at any given moment. Because, in my own life, I’ve found stress to the be number one impediment to my capacity to live lovingly, I’ll focus primarily on the sympathetic nervous system in this article.

Tricky Triggers: Why Our Buttons Get Pushed

The origins of stress (and all the feelings that come with it) might seem simple: stressful situations, duh. But, it’s not actually so simple.

In some cases, the source of stress is clear: extreme hunger is an obvious threat to survival which triggers stress chemicals12 (and in the case of hanger, it’s not uncommon to misinterpret these chemical responses as anger because they feel so similar in the body). Similarly, acute pain13 also releases stress hormones that can make us irritable (as it signals a threat to our wellbeing). Indeed, anything that puts our wellbeing into question is bound to cause a stress response. Natural disasters, encountering a protective mama bear, living in a war zone, or triggering a person with extremely violent tendencies are all pretty clear threats to our immediate safety, and merit responses that treat the threat seriously. This is why listening to our emotions (as opposed to numbing or ignoring them) is essential: our emotions carry important communications about our wellbeing.

That being said, many situations that cause stress in the modern world aren’t clear threats, in which case “listening to our feelings” is super confusing. Indeed, though we often experience fear in black and white, the realities of whether or not we’re actually in danger are often in shades of grey.

First of all: let’s talk about social dynamics. Is it true that if someone makes a condescending look at me, my life is in danger? No, not necessarily. However, as social beings, we are wired to be sensitive to social dynamics and hierarchies; high social status has long been associated with stable access to resources whereas low social status has long been associated with less access to resources. As such, it's common for humans to have stress responses when they feel dominated, even if the signals are subtle (such as tone of voice, facial expression, or choice of words14). Similarly, it’s common for humans to have stress responses when their social rank is lowered or threatened15.

Furthermore, humans are predisposed to in-group/out-group dynamics that can trigger stress responses when encountering those who are considered part of the out-group16 . As noted in In-Group and Out-Group Dynamics: A Psychological Perspective, “Favoring in-group members and suspicion of out-group members was an adaptive strategy. In-group cooperation maximized the chances of survival for individuals and their offspring. Suspicion and avoidance of out-groups minimized the risk of conflict.” So, even if the person presents no real threat in the moment, if they’re perceived to be part of the out-group, it’s likely that a stress response will occur. Similarly, a threat to belonging within the in-group is also likely to cause a stress response.

That being said, many of the fears regarding social status, hierarchy, and belonging are related to the perception of harm that could happen in the future, for example, thinking: “If I’m not accepted by my group, I won’t have support when I need it” or “If I befriend this person, my own group might reject me.” With that in mind, let’s talk about the difference between fear and anxiety. Fear is an involuntary response to an immediate threat. Anxiety is a fear response to something that has happened in the past or that might happen in the future17. For example, being kicked out of your apartment and sleeping on the streets (because you failed to pay the rent) would cause fear. But being afraid to upset your boss because it could cost you your job (and then you wouldn’t be able to pay your rent), would cause anxiety.

In any case, the kind of physiological and/or emotional reaction that we have to a situation depends on how our life experiences have led us to relate to (or appraise18) it. For example, getting approached by a dog for someone who happily grew up with dogs as part of the family might cause a calm feeling of fondness. But, for someone who was attacked by a dog as a child, being approached by a dog might trigger immense terror.

With that in mind, it’s possible to have stress responses that are triggered by false threats; the danger is perceived, but not necessarily real. This makes navigating our stress responses very difficult.

With that in mind (for the trying times when we unwittingly turn into skittish scaredy cats or hissy-fitters), let’s look at some of the flaws of human perception that can summon automatic (and involuntary) stress responses even though the threat may not exist to the extent that is being perceived.

The Origins of False-Alarm-Feelings

First of all, it’s important to note that much of our perceived reality is constructed within us (I know it sounds a bit woo woo, but according to scientific findings, it’s true1920.) This makes our perception of reality extremely subjective. Though I’ll talk more about how we construct reality (and the extent to which we do so consciously) in the final article of this series, for now:

here’s a super simplified summary of how science understands perception at this time:

1. We are constantly surrounded by sensory possibility; there’s endless information that’s available for us to take in from the world around us through our senses -too much, in fact. So, our brains prioritize whatever is most relevant to us in any given moment (which is its own complex process21).

2. With the little sensory information that we do take in (did you know that we only see 1% of the world around us?22), our brain uses past experiences (memories) to fill in the blanks23. This is to say: we unconsciously construct our realities by combining sensory input with understandings that already exist within us.

3. We develop confidence in our perceptions by taking actions that help us to gain more information about what we think something might be24. For example, if I hear a loud noise, I might initially think that its a hammer being used for the house that’s being built next door (because I’m aware that construction has been happening at this time of day, and I’ve heard a hammer before). However, because the sound is louder than I expected, I go outside to check it. There, I discover something new: a woodpecker is pounding into my roof! Good thing I checked, Troublemaker.

4. Our reality is constantly being constructed and updated through making predictions about the world around us, and then investigating them. Learning is the process of updating the understandings that we use to interpret our experience and to form our reality25.

That being said, there are plenty of opportunities for the process of constructing reality to go awry, the most obvious being cognitive biases (check out this super cool website by the Smithsonian called “The Science of Bias”). Bias is a natural part of the predictive process that uses preexisting information to essentially guess what’s going on in the moment, and to predict what will happen next. Some common forms of bias are26:

• Confirmation bias is “the tendency to gather evidence that confirms preexisting expectations, typically by emphasizing or pursuing supporting evidence while dismissing or failing to seek contradictory evidence.27” This confirmation bias can affirm in-group/out-group perspectives, false beliefs, and preferences.

• Familiarity bias (also called “the mere exposure effect”) is the “tendency to develop preferences for things simply because we are familiar with them28” (no wonder so many folks dream of fame). Similarly, it can cause us to believe things are true just because we’ve been repeatedly exposed to them, not because they’re actually true29.

• Attention bias is the “tendency to focus on certain elements of our environment while ignoring others.30”

That being said, one of the most powerful attention biases of being human comes from the fact that our brains are wired to be vigilant, constantly scanning for potential sources of danger (C-3PO style). This is essential for our survival because we need to be able to anticipate and detect threats (so that we can protect ourselves from them). That being said, in ambiguous situations, our brains are made to err on the side of perceiving a threat (even though it might not be there) as opposed to ignoring a threat (that is actually there). This phenomena is often described as the “better-safe-than-sorry mechanism” where it’s safer to assume that a stick is a snake than to assume that a snake is a stick31.

That being said, hyper-vigilance32 can happen for a many reasons, such as:

• in individuals who have experienced significant trauma, often resulting in PTSD which has a tendency to make our fear responses more sensitive/reactive

• mental health challenges, such as depression, anxiety, personality disorders, and addiction

• and dementia

That being said, with or without hyper-vigilance, it’s common for us to predict danger before we know if the threat is real. This is to say: it’s common for our sympathetic nervous system to be triggered (with all the emotions that come with it) based on incomplete evidence. The tendency to be afraid of our own shadow (and physically respond to a threat before we actually understand what’s happening) is much more normal than we might think, and can happen for a few reasons.

Here’s some of the causes of unconscious false-threats:

1. The part of the brain that scans for danger and triggers the sympathetic nervous system (called the amygdala) receives sensory information before the part of the brain that rationally evaluates information (called the pre-frontal cortex). This happens because the part of the brain that receives sensory input (called the thalamus), sends sensory information to both the amygdala and the pre-frontal cortex at the same time. However, since the route to the amygdala is quicker than to the pre-frontal cortex, the amygdala receives the information more quickly. This difference in processing speeds can have a big impact on our feelings (and our reactions to them) as the amygdala is not bothered by incomplete information; it triggers the sympathetic nervous system as soon as any possible threat is detected (real or not)33.

2. Not all memories are created equally: some memories are formed consciously (called explicit memories) and some are formed unconsciously (called implicit memories). When we have an implicit memory of something dangerous without an explicit memory to explain it, we can experience fear of something without consciously understanding why. In these situations, the experience of fear (and the stress that’s caused by it) happens without the participation of our conscious mind (which is often associated with the pre-frontal cortex). This unconscious fear can be triggered from memories that were formed as a young child (before the part of the brain that forms explicit memories -called the hippocampus- is fully developed). Implicit memory can also be caused when the part of the brain that stores explicit memories is damaged, but the part of the brain that stores implicit memories remains intact34.

3. With that in mind, early childhood brain development plays a big role in how we see the world as adults. Unlike many animals, we are born into this world with underdeveloped brains. We primarily develop our brains as children3536. However, the world that shapes our brains as children is not necessarily representative of the many situations that we will encounter as adults. Therefore, the beliefs that we form as kids about what’s safe and unsafe (and the coping mechanisms that form as a result) are not always relevant to our current situations (and can even be detrimental)37. Though sometimes the beliefs and coping mechanisms that we formed in childhood are conscious, more often than not, they are unconscious. This can cause unconscious stress-responses to situations that resemble our childhood challenges, even if we’re not fully aware of the resemblance.

That being said, not all stress-responses happen unconsciously. Sometimes the pre-frontal cortex (the rational part of the brain) detects the threat before the amygdala (and then it signals the amygdala)38. However, this consciousness does not guarantee that the threat is real. These conscious, yet misperceived threats, can happen for a few reasons.

Here’s some of the causes of conscious false-threats:

1. Our explicit memories are notoriously inaccurate39. We experience far too much in life to be able to store every experience in our long term memory. As such, the brain only stores what it finds most pertinent to our survival (forming especially strong memories when we’re stressed40). Then, our brains fill in the blanks by using past memories. That being said, the formation of new memories is hugely colored by our emotional experience at the time that the memory is formed.

   Similarly, our memories are altered every time we recall them. This process, called memory reconsolidation, is like a game of telephone in which the memory changes every time it’s recalled41. Though at first glance, this might seem like a faulty system, the ability to update our memories is actually quite useful for our survival. Life, in general, is not static; it’s constantly changing. As such, it’s important to be able to adjust our memories as life changes4243.

   That being said, in the process of memory reconciliation, our memories are susceptible to influence from both our own emotions, and the influence of others. On the positive side, others can help us remember what we had forgotten44. Or, in a therapeutic setting, memories can be altered to make them less intrusive or less distressing when remembering them45. On the negative side, our memories can be altered by others in ways that make them significantly less true46.

   Along those lines, sometimes our memories are outright false. Unlike memories that are incorrect (but based on something that really happened), false memories47 are outright fiction. Though rare (and not fully understood yet), it is possible to carry a memory that is entirely made by your brain.

2. We may also experience false-threats because our understandings of the world around us are also, notoriously, inaccurate. Here are some (though not all) explanations for why we may have false understandings (that could, potentially cause false-threats):

   1. Our brains are prone to cognitive distortions (a fancy term for not-thinking about-things-right). To a large extent, this is due to the fact that our brains are “predisposed to assume danger [which] creates a negative bias, irrational thoughts, and polarized thinking. Our brains make connections between thoughts, ideas, actions, and consequences that may or may not be true.48” These cognitive distortions can happen for many reasons, including the “better-safe-than-sorry mechanism” and the fact that our brains work in categories that make us susceptible to overgeneralizing.

      This tendency to overgeneralize can cause false understandings (and therefore false-threats) if we have a negative experience with something, and then extend our fear to everything that fits within the same category. For example, perhaps we get bit by a fire ant, and then we fear all bugs. Not all bugs bite, but the categorical (and vigilant) nature of our brains would rather overestimate danger than underestimate it (this is often referred to as fear generalization49). With that in mind, there are many different kinds of cognitive distortions, which include50:

      1. Black-and-white/all-or-nothing thinking. For example, thinking: “Either I pass this test or I’m a total failure in life!”

      2. Minimizing the positive and magnifying the negative. For example, receiving 95% positive feedback on your work, but only focusing on the 5% that was critical.

      3. Assuming the worst. For example thinking: “With my luck, I’m sure I won’t ever get a chance to try again.”

      4. Catastrophizing. For example thinking: “If I don’t get this job, no one will ever respect me and I’ll have no friends and I’ll die alone.”

   2. We can also carry false realities (and that can cause false-threats) if we’ve learned something that’s false, such as “mice are violent creatures that will attack anyone in sight.” With this false knowledge, I would likely jump out of my pants when I see a mouse, and I’d probably tremble just at the thought of being in a place that was known to have mice (even though mice are timid creatures that prefer to flee -rather than attack- when afraid).

      

      Learning things that are false can happen for lots of reasons. Sometimes the reasons are super obvious, like not having all the data. For example, in Victorian England, “before people had a firm grasp of germ theory, the conventional belief among everyday people and scientists alike was that diseases were caused by foul odors, or noxious ‘miasma,’ that were emitted from rotting organic matter and traveled through the air to cause infections.51” These earnest scientific mistakes are why many scientists are hesitant to ever call something a “fact”. Indeed, in its most humble and sincere form, science recognizes that there’s always a possibility for new evidence (and, therefore, new understandings) to emerge. This is one of the core challenges of our human condition: life requires us to act, even though our understanding of life is infinitely incomplete. This is also why many discoveries in science are referred to as observations, evidence, conclusions, or theory (again, not absolute fact). In its most rigorous form, science always leaves room for the possibility of new discoveries, and therefore new understandings.

      That being said, sometimes we learn false things for less obvious reasons, such the biases and cognitive distortions (that I’ve already discussed), or the Authority Bias. With the Authority Bias, “ingrained respect for authority [that comes from our childhood] becomes a cognitive shortcut, or heuristic, to help simplify and speed up decision-making processes. In many situations, people don’t have the time or resources to thoroughly research every decision, so they defer to the expertise of those they consider authoritative. This tendency reduces the amount of cognitive energy we expend on decision-making, lightening our cognitive load and leaving more mental resources available for decisions that we cannot defer to others.52” That being said, those who we consider authority don’t necessarily always have things right.

      Furthermore, the subconscious process that determines who we give authority to can also be faulty. For example, with the halo effect, the authority that is given to people or organizations based on their expertise or perceived trustworthiness in one area is expanded into areas that they don’t necessarily have expertise or demonstrated trustworthiness53 (this is how brand endorsements work). Similarly, the mere-exposure effect can also give someone authority just for being familiar.

   3. Another possible explanation for why our understanding of the world might not be accurate (and cause false-alarms) is that humans are vulnerable to social realities that aren’t always based in truth. Racism, for example, is a social reality54 that is not based in truth55. With racism, one may fear a person of the other race even when they present no real threat.

   4. Finally, our realities can be skewed by remembering stories that are fictional. Did you know that the brain often uses fictional tales to construct reality? Wild, but true56. According to an article in Psychology Today titled The Science of Storytelling: How Fiction Shapes the Mind, “the same neural circuits activated when we process real-world social interactions, emotions, and problem-solving are also engaged when we read about fictional events. For example, the brain’s mirror neuron system, which plays a key role in empathy, responds to characters’ experiences as if they were our own.”

      The fact our brains experience stories as if they were our own lived experience can be beneficial, or not. On the beneficial side, fictional tales can serve as simulations of real life difficulties in which we’re able to imagine beneficial ways of handling the challenge. On the-less-than-beneficial side, fictional stories can create fears, anxieties and beliefs that are not based in reality.

3. Beyond remembering and understanding things incorrectly, our perception of danger can be also skewed (causing false-alarms) in a world where overconsumption and addiction are excessively available (and, therefore, common). This is due to the nature of dopamine (the neurotransmitter that’s responsible for our sense of pleasure and motivation). Though dopamine is widely known as the “pleasure hormone,” a more accurate name might be the “motivating hormone.57” The reward system (of which dopamine is a part) is not meant to be satisfied; “it doesn’t surge when we get a reward, but when we anticipate one…This system continually compares what we expect to what we actually experience. If reality exceeds expectation, dopamine spikes; if it falls short, dopamine dips.58” Practically speaking, when we acquire something that highly supports our sense of wellbeing, dopamine motivates us to get more. When we are disappointed, the lack of dopamine either drives us to find even more or to go another direction entirely.

   Evolutionary speaking, this reward system exists because for most of human existence, we lived in a world of natural limits and scarcity (where certain necessities of life were not nearly as abundant as they are today -for example, sugar and fat). As a result, we evolved to be highly motivated to find/acquire those scarce resources (and avoid wasting our time on what isn’t perceived as valuable). As such, rare (but essential) elements tend to release high levels of dopamine (our natural motivator). This has historically helped to ensure that we maintain a quest for those rare resources even though it could require significant effort to find them again5960.

   That being said, though in the modern world “rare” resources are much more abundant, they still release the same amount of dopamine, producing the same amount of craving (even though that level of craving is no longer necessary for our survival). Furthermore, the nature of addiction is that when we habitually gain high-dopamine experiences, we become less sensitive to dopamine, ultimately requiring us to have more in order to experience the same kind of pleasure61. This often results in craving much more than we need, sometimes, even, having stress responses when our inflated needs aren’t met (which is why people who have addictions feel highly stressed when they’re not able to get what they’re addicted to -even when it’s unnecessary for survival, damaging to wellbeing, or harmful to the world-at-large).

Growing Peace

with the Courage of Compassion

Though I’m sure there are many more possible explanations for why we might experience unwarranted freak-outs, what matters most to me in this context is understanding that many of the heebie-jeebies that harden our hearts are happening unconsciously; we don’t mean to get shook.

By extension, we also don’t mean to withhold love when we’re stressed or afraid. When we enter a state of stress, we become more focused on self-preservation (and less focused on concerns for others). It’s about energy allocation: we can’t help others if we, ourselves, are compromised; only once we have gained our own safety can we focus on helping others.

Similarly, if someone scares us, the sympathetic nervous response is in direct conflict with concepts of love (which are more associated with coming together and caring for each other than with fighting or fleeing each other). Furthermore, as Robert Sapolsky mentions in his book Behave: the Biology of Humans at Their Best and Worst, one of the most effective ways to reduce stress is to behave aggressively towards others (some might call this venting, blowing off steam, or “taking it out on someone”).

All this to say, yes -indeed- love is harder when we’re stressed. Though (when I put it like that) it seems obvious, for a lot of my life I judged (and even hated) myself and others for the times that we acted less-than-lovingly (as if our lack of love were intentional). But, understanding how stress works helps me to understand that rarely do we mean to be unloving -it’s just super hard to love when we’re in a defensive mode. With that in mind, our actions do not define who we are; we’re not innately unloving. Instead, every action reflects how we understand the world, and how we feel at the time that we take the action.

That being said, if, by some miracle, we are able to summon love when we’re stressed, love has an uncanny ability to help bring the nervous system into balance (both for ourselves and for others), and to give us the creative power to build the peace that we all wish to see.

Still, I run into a nagging concern: does compassionately understanding why we struggle to love justify -or enable- the times when we’re not loving (and the harm that those times can cause)? This has been concerning because there has been a part of me that has believed that condemnation and punishment are not only effective ways to prevent unloving behavior, but the only sure ways to guarantee that people will act with respect and regard for others.

Of course, this belief didn’t appear out of thin air- it’s been a pretty well-regarded and scientifically-backed approach for much of human history. Classical (or Pavlovian) conditioning, for example, has butt-loads of scientific research that asserts that we can elicit positive or negative associations by either presenting rewards or causing pain (punishment)62. Operant conditioning, then, took classical conditioning to the next level by looking at how positive reinforcement or negative consequences can influence someone’s behavior63. Most parents know the tenets of operant conditioning well (for better or for worse) whether or not they studied it. Similarly, the prison system also functions on the hope that the fear of imprisonment will discourage folks from breaking the law.

The trouble is, when I consider the nature of stress responses, and when I look into my own life, I can see clearly that punishment doesn’t always go as planned -especially in matters of the heart. In my own life, I’ve found that punishment often causes more stress for those who’ve pissed me off, and is therefore more likely to cause folks to be less loving, not more. Similarly, though I’ve deeply understood how important love is, I’ve not always been able to achieve it when life has been hard. But, when folks have sought to punish, embarrass, or reject me for perceived selfishness, I did not find myself loving them more. Instead, I found myself on the defense (and even irrational).

I’m not the only one who questions the universal application of punishment as a means of behavior control, especially in light some pretty blaring evidence that challenges its effectiveness, such as: seemingly endless wars, high levels of recidivism (re-incarceration after having been released from prison64) and snotty little kids who keep getting into trouble no matter how many times they’re grounded. With that in mind, parenting trends have been moving towards more positive approaches65 and rehabilitation programs have been central to reducing recidivism6667. Still, despite plain-in-sight evidence that coercion and punishment don’t always do the trick, more scientific research on the topic is needed68.

With this in mind, for years I’ve been doing my own experiment (though, by no means could it be called scientific): Rather than seeking to punish or justify unloving behavior, I aim to understand what blocks love from happening. My hypothesis: with this kind of compassionate understanding, I can address root causes in a way that supports myself, my loved ones, and even those who scare me, in the times that we struggle to love the most. Perhaps addressing root causes can grow our capacity for love and peace (even when life is challenging).

That being said, it feels important to mention that the kind of compassionate understanding and care that I’ve been aiming for does not assert that we should never hold boundaries; understanding why someone’s hurting or taking advantage of us doesn't compel us to allow them to do so. Though there have been times when the softness of the heart has made me more lenient, tolerant, and forgiving, if there’s one thing I learned (the hard way) from being a middle school teacher, it’s that boundaries are part of love (although, at times, confusing). Compassion for those that I’m holding a boundary with informs me about how to hold the boundary in ways that are productive towards peace.

Over and over I ask: What is the intelligence of compassion? How can it help me through this?

Still, it’s not a straight-forward process, and I’ve not always hit the nail on the head. Compassionate boundaries often require immense patience (which isn’t easy, especially when I’m scared or hurting). They challenge me to pause before acting (which I haven’t always achieved in the heat of conflict) and they ask me to understand that people don’t change overnight. How do I protect myself while I give peace time?

It can seem like a long-shot. If we’re wired to be defensive when we’re afraid, is it even possible to be loving in hard times? If I’m scared and they’re scared, what hope is there?

No doubt it’s a risk. In loving those who’ve hurt me or scared me, I absolutely risk being hurt (as not everyone who’s hurt me has shown interest in changing their behavior, and, even when they do: aiming to do better doesn’t mean that we always will -we are humans, after all). But, in hating them, I’m also at great risk (perhaps even more so). The difference is that by loving, I create the possibility of peace. Whereas, in hating, I destroy that possibility. Both love and hate present significant risks, but only love makes peace possible, not as an immediate guarantee, but as a slowly growing reality.

Still, it’s been hard. So. freaking. hard. No matter how well I aim, I can still become a real poo-butt when I’m tired, scared, or stressed. I still have incomplete or inaccurate understandings that bite me in the butt every once in a while. I still get pissed when I feel disrespected or hurt. I still get confused about what’s scary (and what isn’t).

Even so, I have noticed that since I’ve shifted my orientation towards compassionate understanding, peace has been growing, slowly and steadily, within and around me. It may not be the kind of peace that makes the news, but it is the kind that sustains me, little by little, in the face of our world’s immense pressures to cave into terror and unbridled rage.

Even if the evidence is tiny, it’s enough to keep me going.

To that end, in the next article, I’ll explore more about what limits and supports our ability to regulate our emotions, and to grow our hearts in hard times. The aim is not necessarily to find absolute answers, but to grow understanding, hope and heart where it has felt impossible.

Rest assured: I ask these question for myself as much as I ask them for the world at large-

Thank you so much for wading through these muddy waters with me. It can get a little heavy to trudge through on my own, but having you here keeps me going.

In our darkest moments, may love find us mercifully.

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Listen to Love Songs to Our Nature

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Love Songs to Our Nature

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When folks talk about love as a path to peace, I can’t help but to wonder what any of it means. Both love and peace are so multifaceted that it’s hard to wrap my head around either of them on their own, let alone how they might fit into a sentence together.

In the previous article of this series, I explored one of the biggest confusions of my heart: the question of self-love vs. service. When self-love and love-for-others are in conflict, am I an evil person if I choose myself? Am I weak if I choose others? The aim of this investigation is not to find answers, but to grow compassion for the challenges that are inherent in the question -love just isn’t always easy for us humans.

Here, in a continued exploration of the question “Why is love so dang difficult?” I’m wondering about will:

Is love something that we have any control of? Can we will ourselves to love?

This is an important question because we live in a world where any perceived lack of love is deemed punishable. We hold each other accountable. But what if it’s not so simple?

Surprisingly, science does offer some insights into this question. Though science is often associated more with the mind than the heart, it turns out that the two are inextricably connected. So understanding more about our brains does help to understand our hearts.

With this in mind (all puns intended), one of the most striking discoveries that I’ve learned about our minds is how much happens without any consciousness needed; so much of our lives are automatic. On the most obvious level, we don’t need to think about breathing or beating our hearts. We don’t try to digest or hydrate our parts. We don’t send out immunity soldiers every time we get a cut. We don’t try to sneeze when we inhale smoke and dust. Without meaning to, we pass-out after a long day at work. We can’t help but to sweat after all those booty claps and twerks.

Where questions of will get a little messy is when it comes to feelings. Though it’s obvious that I can’t help but to feel the breeze on my skin, or the sunshine on my face, I’ve expected myself to summon numbness when it comes to emotions or pain. I’ve spent a lot of my life getting down on myself for being so emotional, as the feelings that take a toll were something that I could control, as if I were choosing to feel sad or scared; as if I wanted a reason to feel distraught and impaired.

When it comes to love, the question of whether or not I can help how I feel, and/or how I react to those feelings is central to understanding why love can be so stinking hard sometimes; it’s not easy to love that which makes me terrified.

To that end, in the next article in this series, I’ll explore more about the involuntary aspects of feelings (and how they impact how we love). But for now, it’s enough to state (generally) that we can’t help what we feel, but we can control how we react to our feelings -right?

Actually- it’s not so straightforward. The science of self-regulation has taught me that though we do have the power to choose how we respond to our feelings, that power is not always fully available to us. Our access to the pre-frontal cortex (which is the region of the brain that allows us to regulate our emotional reactions1) is impaired when we’re stressed2. When we’re in pain, fear, overwhelm, or exhaustion (or when we’ve been severely traumatized), our ability to rationally respond to our feelings is diminished. This means that in the times that we need our right minds, we tend to be out of them.

It’s physiological3. As each function of the body requires significant energy, not all functions can occur (to the fullest extent) simultaneously. This means that our bodies are constantly deciding what to prioritize based on what’s happening in the moment (and what’s predicted to happen in the near future). Therefore, if the body senses danger, it prioritizes vigilance over cognitive understanding; it’s more important to see the threat and protect yourself from it than it is to understand and/or explain it4. Similarly, in the moment of potential danger (like a lion stalking you) it’s more important to have your full attention on fighting or getting away than it is to contemplate whether or not you’ve trampled on some sensitive plants in the process5.

Even so, it is generally agreed upon that humans can grow our ability to manage our emotions, even when we’re stressed. That being said, improving our emotional regulation is a learned skill that requires a few things that not everyone has access to, such as education, safety, and time. Though some folks were lucky enough to have parents (or other influential adults, such as teachers) who modeled and taught emotional regulation from a young age, not everyone was given such a strong foundation. In this case, to gain those skills, we first need to become aware that we’re lacking them (which can be tricky in contexts where toxic conflict is normalized). Then, we need education to understand our emotions and how to regulate them. Finally, we need the time and safety to actually practice what’s required (such as breathing, self-reflection, creativity and exercise6). In lives that are full of demands from work, household chores, and children, finding the time to regulate ourselves can be tricky. Similarly, it’s hard to focus on self-reflection when we’re in pain, or when we’re hungry.

With all that in mind, when it comes to love, understanding the challenges of emotional regulation is essential because it tells us that no matter how much we may love someone, or want to love them, if we’re super-stressed or scared, we may not be able to regulate ourselves enough to actually act lovingly. As such, conflict can feel never-ending:

I get scared by something that someone does, so I react defensively. Sometimes that fear is justified (as there’s been a real conflict for resources, a real threat, or real harm has been caused), but often the threat is not actually as scary as I think is (it’s just perceived). In any case, the other person is likely to interpret my defensiveness as aggression and to get scared. So, they react defensively. I, then, interpret that defensiveness as aggression, which only validates my feeling of being scared of them. As a result, I (again) react defensively, and maybe even aggressively. They, then, take this aggression as proof that I’m a threat, and respond defensively, maybe even aggressively… “and it goes on and on, my friends -some people started singing it not knowing what it was, and they’ll continue singing it forever just because this is the song that doesn’t end…”

Ugh.

It can feel hopeless.

The question of peace is: How do we interrupt that cycle? How do we find love when we’re afraid? If threatening or punishing the one who threatens us only makes them more stressed (and therefore more irrational), then caring for them in a way that helps to lessen their stress seems like a much more effective option. But how do we do that if we, ourselves, are scared and stressed? What’s more, what about the times when we are showing care (and we’re clearly not presenting a threat), and yet we’re still perceived as dangerous?

To explore these questions, in the next posts I’ll share some nerdy notes on the science behind Feelings and Regulation, The Flaws of Human Perception, and Creative Peace. Again, the aim is not necessarily to find answers, but to grow understanding for the parts of life that are hardest to love so to cultivate the compassion, care, and creativity that help to overcome them.

That being said, I recognize a part of me that struggles to trust this approach: Am I just making excuses for those who harms and loathe? Am I enabling bad behavior by understanding how it’s part of our nature? Am I justifying the pain that’s inflicted by the haters? Will I be taken advantage of with a soft heart? Will love make me a doormat for those who’ve caused me harm?

When my heart falls short in these confusing times, I can’t say that I know where to draw the line, but I am aware of the other side: as shame and punishment activate the stress-responses that hinder our ability to regulate our emotional reactions,7 neither tend to elicit more loving behavior; instead, they fuel the fires of fearing each other. When we feel understood and safe, however, we’ve got much more access to the creative and caring parts of our minds, which makes us more equipped to grow peace in our lives.

In our darkest moments, may love find us mercifully.

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Love Songs to Our Nature

Despite divides and across lines, there seems to be one thing that most can agree on:

Love is important.

Whether you’re a tree-hugging hippy or a bible-thumping evangelist, there’s something in us that knows:

Life is better when we love it.

The message is pervasive. On bumper stickers and billboards across the world, love is presented as the ultimate path to peace: if we could just love each other, life would start flourishing!

And yet, love doesn’t always come easy. In fact, when I aim to look at the world today with love, the most gracious conclusion that I’ve been able to make is that love must be really hard.

It must be hard to do.

It must be hard to see.

Though I understand that the peephole though which I’m able to see the world is skewed (I doubt that the internet and/or the media present a full or accurate view), there’s no denying that really rough stuff is happening (and has been happening throughout history), and that this rough stuff does NOT feel like love.

Why is that? Is it because there’s some kind of anti-love that’s been injected into the world that dries up the hearts of humans? Or perhaps some people are just born evil, utterly incapable of loving?

These gloomy explanations are inescapable, not only when I took into the screen, but from the feedback that I’ve gotten from many of the people that I’ve respected around me. I remember a class on religion that I look in university: When we were asked to articulate our own beliefs (for our final paper), I presented an optimistic view unabashedly: “I believe in love” was the center of my story.

But, in the notes that my professor returned to me, he offered a familiar critique that (in summary) said: Your paper lacks depth without the recognition of evil.

The feedback was unsurprising as I admit that evil is not a word that I use readily, mostly because it summons such a powerful mirror: by calling something evil, I give myself every right to hate it. But the more I hate evil, the more I seem to become it.

Even so, I get my professor’s point: seeing the world through the lens of rainbows and butterflies feels like a lie when it ignores the fact that many butterflies fight; they’re not all airy-fairy-sharey when food is scarce and another butterfly is headed for their dinner. They take no shame in letting the other butterfly go hungry while they devour the whole dang flower12. What selfish little beasts exist in nature!

Yet, if I want a world of love, then it feels safe to assume that loving the world would be part of the equation. But how do I love all that rough stuff that’s not so loving?

For a long time, my strategy was to defend against the heartless army by somehow discerning those who are worthy of love from those who are not. I raised my fist against the enemy: “Down with those who challenge the loving!”

But it was a slippery-slope as I couldn’t help but to find the enemy close to home. Every person that I’ve ever loved has, at one point, hurt me, and each has the capacity to worry and scare me. If the definition of evil is to be selfish or scary, then (from one view or another) we’ve all got a little evil lingering: I’ve certainly seen it in my own reflection with greedy little fingers who took the biggest piece of chicken. Frightened, I’ve jumped ship when I was needed. I’ve displaced blame. I’ve scapegoated. With white little lies that turned to black- cutting corners isn’t cheating if it happens fast.

Still, I’ve rode the horse of “loving imperfections,” at least as long as it justified my own actions. But as soon as it required loving those who hurt me, I’d say the same imperfections deserved punishing. The hypocrisy, itself, isn’t easy to see as I’ve pointed fingers at the very same thing.

Caught in the trap of my own distain, for years I’ve been searching for another way: How can I see all of the hurt and harm in the world with open eyes, and still love it at the same time?

For me, it starts with understanding:

Why is love so dang challenging?

The question itself can be embarrassing as the hardest thing about love (for me) has been the idea that it ought to be easy, that it ought to flow freely.

If love’s hard for me, does that mean that there’s something wrong with me?

Recently, I read a book that brought this insecurity to the surface. Science-based, the premise of the book was this: If we could just rationalize how important love is, surely we all would do it! The book offered proof of all love’s benefits as it aimed to convince readers that love is a reasonable action. It assumed that love is something that can be swayed, as if the will to love is enough to save the day.

But throughout the book, the subtext was loud: If after seeing all the proof that love’s really good for you, you still don’t do it, then maybe some of us just aren’t cut out for loving. Maybe some of us are just jerks.

That’s how I felt, anyway, as I absorbed each line to the backdrop of difficulties from my own life: The wall that I hit. The returning wound. The generosity that dries when I’m scared and confused.

Ironically, it’s these challenging moments that need the most love, yet so often they’re the ones that get tossed and thrown by the belief that love should be easy:

If we struggle to love, are we worthy to be loved? If not, then what love do we have to give? How can we give love if we’ve been deprived of it?

The Conundrum of the Heart

These questions of the heart are not new to the human experience. Indeed, they’ve been well-documented since singers began to sing and poets began to rhyme. Despite slogans and symbols that paint love as simple, there too are reflections of all the ways that love is difficult -starting with confusion. What does love actually look like? What does it feel like? Is it hard or soft? Learned or inherent? Unconditional or earned? Perhaps, most importantly, is love selfless?

To answer this question: on the one hand, I’ve been advised to secure my own oxygen mask before helping others when the plane has crashed; it’s not possible to love others without loving your own two hands.

On the other hand, I’ve been told to put the needs of others before my own. Remember the allegory of the long spoons3? In this message of love, everyone in both heaven and hell are given ridiculous long spoons. In hell everyone goes hungry as they try to feed themselves selfishly (but can never reach their own mouths). But, in heaven, instead of feeding themselves, folks feed each other (and everyone is satisfied). The moral is clear: when you think about others, everyone is fed. When you think of yourself, everyone goes hungry.

In any case, both hands make sense: You can’t give to others if you, yourself, are empty, yet caring for others is uniquely fulfilling. Still, these two hands are often presented as opposing each other, as if caring for others makes it impossible to care for yourself, or caring for yourself makes it impossible to care for others.

This false dichotomy was highlighted, again, in the book that I read about the research-backed benefits of serving others. Though, on the one hand, the author did acknowledge that there are certain basic needs that we must meet for ourselves (in order to be capable of serving others), many of the studies that were presented compared those-who-are-in-it-for-themselves vs those-who-care-about-others as if they’re mutually exclusive. I found myself frustrated, on numerous counts, as, on the one hand, the author encourages readers to serve others explicitly because it’s good for those who serve, while on the other hand, he emphasizes that the best kind of service is that which is done without self-interest.

I don’t blame him for the confusion: I’ve spent my life confused about whether caring about myself is a good or bad thing (and it’s caused a lot of suffering). For many years, the recognition of my own selfish tendencies has left me feeling both incapable of love, and unworthy of receiving it. This has been a vicious cycle as the less worthy I’ve felt of love, the less love I’ve had to give.

What began my process of reconciliation (between care for myself and care for others) was a better understanding of our nature, starting with how ecosystems work. As an interdependent system, each individual in the ecosystem serves the rest. But, they don’t do so intentionally. From the perspective of each individual, everyone is self-serving.

For example, beavers are known as ecosystems engineers4 because they provide so many benefits to the environment. Firstly, their dams slow down rivers. This slowing water allows sediment to accumulate, which helps to filter water (and keep it clean). It also allows fish to thrive5. Furthermore, the dams help water seep into the surrounding soils, which keeps the land around them green and hydrated, preventing wildfires. What’s more, the dams allow for a slow release of water overtime, which helps rivers to maintain a flow even during times that are dry.

Meanwhile, beaver dams and lodges create habitat for other creatures, like birds, amphibians, and bats. They make bridges for critters to cross rivers, which help ecosystems to share and connect. Finally, as the beavers harvest willows for their dams, their work helps the willows to thrive: pooled water from the dam provides willows with the ideal moisture to grow, and the scattered logs and branches help willows to reproduce through cuttings6.

That being said, as far as science can see, the beaver is not acting altruistically. It doesn’t think to itself “Gosh, I love the willows and the birds and the fish and the bats and the forest so much! I’m gonna do everything that I can to help them all out!” Instead (as far as science can see), beavers build dams because winters can be cold, and they need safe places for hibernating. Similarly, birds don’t necessarily mean to help trees to spread their seeds; they’re just hungry -so they eat the berries and poop them out as they’re flying7. The fact that it all works together so harmoniously (despite the utterly selfish motives at the center of all the components) is nothing short of astonishing -miraculous, even.

Still, as I began to better understand the workings of ecosystems, at first I was hesitant to acknowledge the selfish motives at the center of it; it didn’t fit the world-view that I was trying to prove: I wanted a story of love and peace and harmony, but my observations didn’t fit. Though, as a whole, life is harmonious, on the micro level, it can be ruthless - and disheartening.

But thankfully, with a steadfast aim to love our nature, what began as a dispiriting revelation eventually turned into heartwarming hope and compassion. Life is hard for all of us, and yet: here we all are. After eons of struggle, life has sustained. The resilience of life, as a whole, is heartening.

With this in mind, I began to see how humans are also part of the ecosystem. We are mammals, after all; we’re all predators and prey in the same cycle of life. Perhaps, within this frame, I might find clues as to why love feels so hard sometimes.

Happily, my investigation has brought helpful insights: understanding humans as animals who contend with the same challenges that all of life faces has helped me understand why, at times, we fall from love’s graces.

From the mammalian point of view, we are not made to be selfless. In fact, it’s quite the contrary. We’ve been made to survive; it’s automatic8. That being said, as social animals9, our survival depends on each other. So, total selfishness doesn’t serve us either. Balancing those two instincts: to nourish and protect our own survival while supporting the survival of our family/tribe/community has been at the crux of the human condition ever since we started banding together.

It’s here, in recognizing love as one of the core challenges of the human condition that my heart has begun to soften:

When I expect love to be easy, it becomes harder. When I expect love to be hard, it feels easier.

With that in mind, in this series I’ll share some of the nerdy nature notes that I’ve found regarding the automatic (and animalistic) responses that both keep us from love, and move us toward it.

The aim is simple:

To grow understanding for the parts of life are hardest to love so to cultivate the compassion, care, and creativity that help us to overcome them.

In our darkest moments, may love find us mercifully

Stay tuned to the heart of our nature:

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Follow "Love Notes to Our Nature"

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Listen to Love Songs to Our Nature

(and read the stories and science behind the songs)

Love Songs to Our Nature