Book Thoughts

An Inquiry

How does recent brain research impact on my yoga teaching? – In discourse with Lisa Feldman Barrett’s SEVEN AND A HALF LESSONS ABOUT THE BRAIN

Lisa Feldman Barrett is a Boston based neuroscience professor who received the Guggenheim fellowship in neuroscience in 2019 and is according to the publisher of her short but insightful book Seven And a Half Lessons About The Brain ‘among the top 1 per cent most-cited scientists in the world for her revolutionary research in psychology and neuroscience’. Her book aims to reset our perspectives on the evolution and workings of our brain and our mind. It was published in 2020. The mind, of course, in yoga philosophy, is central to our well-being, it is regarded as the problem as well as the solution. Through yoga exercise, pranayama and meditation we aim to restrain it from its inherent wilful nature to achieve more calm and clarity. In our seminal text in yoga philosophy, Patanjali’s 2000-year-old Yoga Sutras, we find a skilful examination of the mind’s various states, its weaknesses and its potentials as well as a method on how to use it or be with it in a more fulfilling way. – What I, as a yoga teacher, was interested in was how modern insights can enrich, or question, my notion of the mind which I undoubtedly apply in my classes.

The author’s first lesson, the half lesson, which she sends ahead of everything else, is that our brains have not been developed for thinking but for running our body effectively. This translates to managing our energy wisely, she calls it ‘managing our body-budget’. Everything else we do is subordinated to this overriding aim. The brain constantly evaluates if it is useful to spend energy on something or not. And as this is a biological system ‘useful’ here means securing our health and survival. This preliminary statement seems reassuringly in accordance with the opening sutras of Patanjali which declare that too much thinking, too much fluctuation in the mind, is carrying us away from resting in our true nature (see YS 1.2 – YS 1.4). Feldman Barrett’s half lesson furthermore firmly establishes the body-mind unit. It seems obvious, but in an age in which humanity is much occupied with artificial intelligence it is worth stating, it seems there is no mind without a body.

The next and first full lesson aims to uproot a deeply seated myth about our brain which has often been employed to explain humans’ impact on our planet: Our brain is different from brains in the animal kingdom through its profusely developed cerebral cortex, the outermost layer of the brain. This outermost brain is often been regarded as a special addition, holding so far not evolved capacities, especially the ability to reason, which has been contrasted to the deeper and supposedly evolutionary older parts of the brain which are made responsible for irrational impulses (for those interested: see for example the model of the triune brain developed in the 1960s). The author makes it clear that modern research can not uphold this interpretation of the brain, ‘Anything you read or hear that proclaims the human neocortex, cerebral cortex, or prefrontal cortex to be the root of rationality, or says that the frontal lobe regulates so called emotional brain areas to keep irrational behaviour in check, is simply outdated or woefully incomplete (p.24)’. In fact, it seems that the brains of for example all mammals have developed from the same manufacturing plan, but its differences just show the different adaptations these species evolved to be successful in their environments. This research points into the direction that much of our binary thinking of reason against feeling/ intuition might perhaps also be related to the wrongly footed perspective that reason represents a higher evolutionary state than being emotional and therefore is more to be aspired for. The book emphasises that both contribute vitally and inextricably to our successful engagement with the external world.

Interestingly, Patanjali’s yoga sutras present the concept of the klesas, the obstacles to seeing the world clearly, raga, dvesa, abhinivesa, asmita. They consist of (roughly said) desires, aversions, fear (especially of death) and ego-centeredness and are regarded as a root for suffering. For those familiar with this concept we often acknowledge that being under the spell of these emotionally based states our outlook on the world seems to be narrowed, that each of those can grow substantially when fed and become an overwhelming state. Patanjali’s yoga philosophy here certainly endorses the idea of control, of burning the seeds of the klesas and suggesting a cultivation of opposing ways of being and thinking (see i.e. YS 2:33). The difficult question I suppose is, when do we start to eclipse, suppress, deny, stigmatise or even hamper fundamental aspects of experience. 

The second full lesson of the book aims to give a picture of how the brain is structured. What emerges is that the brain is not divided into a functional right and a left, a still quite prevalent notion, or an organ with patches of functional clusters (somewhat similar to the brain model of phrenology in the 19th century) but is a highly complex and individualised network of 128 billion brain cells, neurons, in which any of these can do more than one thing. This kind of structure opens up an incredible amount of combinations, is therefore never the same from one person to the next, and allows us to store multi-faceted memories, be creative, be resilient, be able to adjust to all sorts of circumstances, to think abstractedly. From these insights one can not fail to draw the conclusion that yoga practices which argue to be based on a different brain model which differ from that of a network, as for example that of the functional divide presented to the eye in the anatomical divide of the brain, are at best metaphorical. Pranayama (breath work) techniques like Chandra Bheda or Surya Bheda perhaps work through visualising the coolness of the moon and the warmth of the sun. But in fact the intellectual, logical left hemisphere associated with the sun seems to be a myth in the same way as is the more intuitive, creative right hemisphere associated with the moon. 

Thankfully before we get too unsettled with this comparison between modern insights and ancient wisdoms and techniques the wind now starts changing direction and we get some for the yogi more affirmative chapters. In chapter three we learn that the dichotomy of nature versus nurture is misplaced with regard to the human brain as ‘We have the kind of nature that requires nurture’ (p.62). The way our brains are made we depend on stimulations, a constant ‘tuning and pruning’ of our nerve branches, to form us to that what we are. Nerves which are not used will wither, others will be strengthened if they are repeatedly fired. Patanjali’s famous concept of regular practice (YS 1:12), abhyasa, is much in tune with it. It is by practice that we learn and grow. However, perhaps one should also not forget that we must not limit ourselves, and expose ourselves to challenges, as we lose what we do not use (a human embryo apparently creates twice as many neurons as an adult brain will need). 

The 20^th century German philosopher Heidegger described humans as ‘beings to the future’, beings with a distinctively forward thinking mind, who are always a little bit ahead of themselves. Lisa Feldman Barrett in her next lesson now confirms that our brain constantly ‘predicts and prepares [y]our actions depending on [y]our past experiences’ (p.78). The purpose again is to run our body-budget of energy as efficiently as possible. – As yoga teachers we know how difficult it can be to get our students out of their busy minds and into the experience at hand. The author directs the reader’s thought to the aspect that we use past experiences to prepare our actions, and furthermore that we have some responsibility for our ‘past experiences’. Indeed, there is a degree of choice in what we expose ourselves to. This concept much reminded me of Patanjali’s yamas and niyamas discussed in Chapter 2 of the Yoga Sutras. Especially the niyamas, the observances to ourselves, saucha (purity, cleanliness), tapas (discipline), svadhyaya (moving towards Self-knowledge), santosa (contentment) and ishvara-pranidhana (acknowledging a faculty bigger than ourselves) appear to me as handed over by Patanjali as suitable means to create a soil from which we can rise – similar to the book’s claim that the brain can make better predictions on how to manage our energy wisely when we expose ourselves to a conducive realm of experience. The author appeals to our answerability when she suggests that ‘Sometimes we are responsible for things not because they are our fault but because we are the only ones who can change them’ (p. 81).

From lesson five onwards the book starts to cast its light beyond the individual brain and begins to convey how the interaction of people affects the brain’s central mission of managing our body’s energy budget. Relationships are at the core of being human and we do seem to regulate each other, ‘Changes in one person’s body often prompt changes in another person’s body’, independently of the fact how well we know the other person. When we are together with someone we care about our breathing and even our heartbeat can synchronise. This also happens ‘among people taking a yoga class together or singing in a choir’ (p.85). Modern brain research thus has confirmed that an experienced sense of sanga, community, as well a smaller encounter between two people produces measurable physiological changes in people’s bodies. And if we treat one another with kindness this has direct biological pay-offs for our energy household. Patanjali’s sutra YS 1:33 thus seems much corroborated by modern insights into the brain. As you might remember it advises a cultivation of friendliness, compassion, joy on the behalf of other’s fortunes and equanimity in the face of others’ misconduct. 

Brains nevertheless differ from one person to the next, as our neurological pathways all have been formed from different experiences. We sometimes get a better understanding of this when we travel and suddenly have to accustom ourselves to different ways of interaction, practices and handling situations. Other societies, other cultural practices, other climates and languages have formed brains and minds in particular ways. In our own society this just happens on a subtler level. It seems to me that as yoga teachers we need to be aware of these differing, not necessarily for oneself formulated, perceptions, to listen well and hone our communication skills.

The book’s last lesson engages with the question of how we create a social reality in our heads through implicitly naming and defining things which are de facto not existing, for example what the borders of countries are or what money is. It is our mutual collective agreement which defines that this piece of land is France or that bit of special paper is £50. Our social reality is a construction in which we impose new functions on physical things. Apparently this is a uniquely human ability which was made possible through several qualities of our highly complex brain, but especially through the ability to summarise when we store sensory information plus the meaning we apply to it, a process called compression. Again, however, we have the responsibility to investigate where the boundaries of our social reality lie and how they come about. It is easy to see that by mutual, collective agreement unhelpful hallucinations about what constitutes the world can arise. – This aspect of brain research much reminded me of the concept of avidya in yoga philosophy. Avidya stands for an ignorance about the state of the world, where we believe something is real which in fact is not real, what is temporary to see as lasting, what is impure to regard as pure (YS 2:5). The world in our heads according to Lisa Feldman Barret is a careful construct and it is at us to understand that this is so and keep a vigilant eye on what guides our actions.

Has my notion of the mind changed after perusing Feldman Barrett’s seven and a half lessons? And will it inform the way I teach? In many ways Feldman Barrett has highlighted aspects I was to a degree aware of, nevertheless, her perspective of that of a brain researcher has sometimes given a slightly different angle to these aspects. 

• I will now stand in front of a class of people being a bit more aware that in my students’ brains, as well as in my brain, billions of processes take place at all times to keep us safe and well. 
• I might also be more alerted to the process of physiological attunement between me and the students and between the students themselves. Our heartbeats might coordinate!
• I am reassured in my knowledge that a practice which builds over weeks and at the same time is versatile will sustain learning and keep stimulating neurological pathways.
• The insight that our brains all differ motivates me to try different entry points into a practice, using for example the breath, stories, philosophy, nature, anatomical knowledge, medical benefits, mantras or imagery.
• My resolve to alert students to what is coming next or is to be expected in my classes is strengthened.
• Finally, sometimes I might ponder if, and why, I have chosen a certain social reality in the representation of my classes. Are my classes resting on a mutual agreement, like that yoga makes you physically fitter – or that they make you calm – or that they bring you closer to your spiritual self? How do I contribute to it? 

The one thing which I, however, have taken away most from this book is that there is conclusive evidence that our brains are complex and highly individualised networks and that the adherence to practices which have been developed with a different brain model in mind can best only be offered as metaphorical visualisations. 

Lisa Feldman Barrett’s book SEVEN AND A HALF LESSONS ABOUT THE BRAIN was published in 2020 by Picador, UK.