"The limbic brain is an emotional magnet. Attractors activate compatible aspects of relatedness and emotionality in others, leaving dormant the incompatible pebbles. We all embody an emotional force field that acts on the people we love, evoking the relationship attributes we know best. Our minds are in turn pulled by the emotional magnets of those close to us, transforming any landscape we happen to contemplate and painting it with the colors and textures they see."
"If psychotherapy exerts its healing touch through limbic connections, one wonders, why aren’t other attachments curative? If he were willing to put in the time—why couldn’t a spouse, friend, bartender, or bowling partner guide a lost soul into a healthier emotional world?
The matter is one of probability rather than destiny. A person who needs limbic revision possesses pathologic Attractors. Everyone who comes within range feels at least some of the unhappiness inherent in his world, and that intimation repels many potentially healthy partners. Those who stay often do so because they recognize a pattern from their own pasts. For them it is a siren song. Relatedness engenders a brand loyalty that beer companies would kill for: your own relationship style entices. Others are wearisome and, in short order, unpalatable. Thus people who bond share unspoken assumptions about how love works, and if the Attractors underlying those premises need changing, they are frequently the last people in the world who can help each other.”—Thomas Lewis, M. D., Fari Amini, M.D., and Richard Lannon, M.D., A General Theory of Love
"… this is my 2nd anniversary with my partner, so in my mind it’s the beginning of a replicable cycle. It’s like our first not new anniversary, you know? At the same time things in our lives are still new and uncertain and I guess despite all of that having my partner around is a great comfort and constant. So yeah there’s a lot of different feelings, a cyclical feeling, a feeling of uncertainty and change, a feeling of hope, and a feeling of constancy.
I love how your work expresses these tensions—of fondness and distance, of gaining and loosing, of push and pull, of reason and emotion, of the change in sentiment over time. If anything I say resonates with you, it would mean a lot to me if it helped your work in any way. I would love to share it with my partner.”—Jessica
"… the more it changes, the more it’s the same thing. Change is in some sense an illusion, for we are always at the point where any future can take us!"—Alan Watts
Thanks, Jean-Sébastien. I think you are right. I’m endlessly curious about what the unseeable, but intuitively palpable, might look like to us.
I’ve recently started to read a little more and have begun keeping a reading journal—one of the books I just finished has made an explanation for what you are describing based on brain physiology. It’s deeply exciting to me to see where the various areas of science takes us in the next several years, and how it meshes with what has always been known to be true in art and philosophy.
"The limbic brain is another delicate physical apparatus that specializes in detecting and analyzing just one part of the physical world—the internal state of other mammals. Emotionality is the social sense organ of limbic creatures. While vision lets us experience the reflected wavelengths of electromagnetic radiation, and hearing gives information about the pressure waves in the surrounding air, emotionality enables a mammal to sense the inner states and the motives of the mammals around him.
"…mammals developed a capacity we call limbic resonance—a symphony of mutual exchange and internal adaptation whereby two mammals become attuned to each other’s inner states. It is limbic resonance that makes looking into the face of another emotionally responsive creature a multi-layered experience. Instead of seeing a pair of eyes as two bespeckled buttons, when we look into the ocular portals to a limbic brain our vision goes deep: the sensations multiply, just as two mirrors placed in opposition create a shimmering ricochet of reflection whose depths recede into infinity.”—Thomas Lewis, M. D., Fari Amini, M.D., and Richard Lannon, M.D., A General Theory of Love
Over a year ago, I had written about my late paternal grandfather seven years after his death. Last week during this time, I was in Taipei for my late maternal grandfather’s funeral. The funerary rites and ceremony we held for him were heavily imbued with emotions and meaning, but over in a matter of days. I shed no tears, and during the week between the funeral and Lunar New Year, I went back to my old notes and sketched out the diagrams that were posted Monday through Thursday this week. Some of them were drawn up around the time I wrote the post on my paternal grandfather.
My maternal grandfather and I were never particularly close. He didn’t speak Mandarin well and I don’t understand much Taiwanese, though he used words sparingly in general. He spoke primarily with his labor, the home and the garden he tended. These, and our memories of him are what succeed him and remain with us.
Would these reveal more to us in time?
“Fellow man! Your whole life, like a sandglass, will always be reversed and will ever run out again, - a long minute of time will elapse until all those conditions out of which you were evolved return in the wheel of the cosmic process. And then you will find every pain and every pleasure, every friend and every enemy, every hope and every error, every blade of grass and every ray of sunshine once more, and the whole fabric of things which make up your life. This ring in which you are but a grain will glitter afresh forever. And in every one of these cycles of human life there will be one hour where, for the first time one man, and then many, will perceive the mighty thought of the eternal recurrence of all things:- and for mankind this is always the hour of Noon”—Friedrich Nietzsche, Wikipedia