A few weeks ago, I rediscovered hypnosis mp3s. Not to lose weight, or break habits per se, but entertaining ones. Hypnosis teters on the edge of pseudoscience and outright charlatanism, but in truth, it’s simply a trusting mind in need of affirmation, and a confident voice able to provide such. In that regard, hypnosis can be similar to therapy—though I would implore anyone reading this to not consider internet mp3s equal to a trained, compassionate professional. With that said, a desire to change, the willingness and ability to trust and believe can make some truth out of hypnosis’ alleged fiction.
Of course, what’s true for me is not true for everyone. We all have the same chemical and biological composition floating in our skulls, and yet our very perception of the real world can be entirely different from person to person. In fact, our eyes and mind aren’t even capable of processing all reality! Our eyes only actively see small portions, and our memories corrode over time, blurring fiction and fact until we have to shrug and focus on the present.
Yet even with those limitations, our sack of meat and electrical impulses is able to bridge mind and matter as easily as any computer. A liminal artefact unto itself (thank you Dr. Dasgupta), even our foremost experts on the brain have barely scratched the surface on how to replicate this wonder of evolution.
Perhaps the most vexing part, and the impetus for me to even write about this topic, is how restricted our brains really are. I’m sitting here, fully aware of the knowledge of proper dieting and exercise. I’ve eaten right in stretches before, and know I feel better. I can remember feeling better when I do that. When I go to the gym, I feel good afterwards. I know it benefits me. My brain is me, so it knows this too. We’re all in agreement.
And yet, I’ve got to browbeat myself into submission so I don’t make choices I know are bad, I know will make me feel bad, and will never stop resulting in that way. It’s like I’m Man Ray and my brain is Patrick Star.
That’s just one example of how this little sack of meat jello is the Grima Wormtongue to my Theoden King. Except Gandalf can’t get inside and Aragorn’s stuck limping without a horse. Maybe the cause for this level of disconnect is because our subconscious mind is practically another person only loosely associated with our conscious self. Still, some days I really want to grab myself by the medulla and not let go until I make me see some sense. Neural interfaces between technology and our brains are almost certainly going to result in more negatives than positives for humanity, but I just might risk my reality being Musked if it means I can stop fighting myself every time I decide to do something that’s one iota above instant gratification—or hell, one iota above nothing at all.
Comin’ for you, brain.
