My Stroke of Insight
My Stroke of Insight
Jill Bolte Taylor
Every brain has a story and this is mine.
For any two of us to communicate with one another, we must share a certain amount of common reality.
Although each hemisphere is unique in the specific types of information it processes, when the two hemispheres are connected to one another, they work together to generate a single seamless perception of the world.
By the time a message reaches our cerebral cortex for higher thinking, we have already placed a “feeling” upon how we view that stimulation – is this pain or is this pleasure? Although many of us may think of ourselves as thinking creatures that feel, biologically we are feeling creatures that think.
Although most of us are rarely aware of it, our sensory receptors are designed to detect information at
the energy level. Because everything around us - the air we breathe, even the materials we use to build with, are composed of spinning and vibrating atomic particles, you and I are literally swimming in a turbulent sea of electromagnetic fields. We are part of it. We are enveloped within it, and through our sensory apparatus we experience what is.
Each of our sensory systems is made up of a complex cascade of neurons that process the incoming neural code from the level of the receptor to specific areas within the brain. Each group of cells along the cascade alters or enhances the code, and passes it on to the next set of cells in the system, which further defines and refines the message. By the time the code reaches the outermost portion of our brain, the higher levels of the cerebral cortex, we become conscious of the stimulation. However, if any of the cells along the pathway fail in their ability to function normally, then the final perception is skewed away from normal reality.
the entire view of what we can see when we look out into the world, is divided into billions of tiny spots or pixels. Each pixel is filled with atoms and molecules that are in vibration. The retinal cells in the back of our eyes detect the movement of those atomic particles. Atoms vibrating at different frequencies emit different wavelengths of energy, and this information is eventually coded as different colors by the visual cortex in the occipital region of our brain. A visual image is built by our brain’s ability to package groups of pixels together in the form of edges. Different edges with different orientations – vertical, horizontal, and oblique, combine to form complex images.
No two strokes are identical in their symptoms because no two brains are absolutely identical in their structure, connections or ability to recover.
Because our two hemispheres are so adept at weaving together a single seamless perception of the world, it is virtually impossible for us to consciously distinguish between what is going on in our left hemisphere versus our right hemisphere
Our right hemisphere (which controls the left half of our body) functions like a parallel processor. Independent streams of information simultaneously burst into our brain via each of our sensory systems. Moment by moment, our right mind creates a master collage of what this moment in time looks like, sounds like, tastes like, smells like, and feels like. Moments don’t come and go in a rush, but rather are rich with sensations, thoughts, emotions, and often, physiological responses. Information processed in this way allows us to take an immediate inventory about the space around us and our relationship to that space.
In contrast, our left hemisphere is completely different in the way it processes information. It takes each of those rich and complex moments created by the right hemisphere and strings them together in timely succession. It then sequentially compares the details making up this moment with the details making up the last moment. By organizing details in a linear and methodical configuration, our left brain manifests the concept of time whereby our moments are divided into the past, present, and future. Within the
structure of this predictable temporal cadence, we can appreciate that this must occur before that can happen. I look at my shoes and socks and it is my left hemisphere that comprehends that I must put my socks on before my shoes.
Just opposite to how our right hemisphere thinks in pictures and perceives the big picture of the present moment, our left mind thrives on details, details, and more details about those details. They break the big picture perception of the present moment into manageable and comparable bits of data that they can talk about
Via our left hemisphere language centers, our mind speaks to us constantly, a phenomenon I refer to as “brain chatter.” It is that voice reminding you to pick up bananas on your way home and that calculating intelligence that knows when you have to do your laundry
One of the jobs of our left hemisphere language centers is to define our selfby saying “I am.” Through the use of brain chatter, your brain repeats over and over again the details of your life so you can remember them. It is the home of your ego center, which provides you with an internal awareness of what your name is, what your credentials are, and where you live. Without these cells performing their job, you would forget who you are and lose track of your life and your identity.
I noticed that the constant brain chatter that routinely familiarized me with my surroundings was no longer a predictable and constant flow of conversation. Instead, my verbal thoughts were now inconsistent, fragmented, and interrupted by an intermittent silence.
I was literally thrown off balance when my right arm dropped completely paralyzed against my side. In that moment I knew. Oh my gosh, I’m having a stroke! I’m having a stroke! And in the next instant,the thought flashed through my mind, Wow, this is so cool!
It was clear to me that this body functioned like a portal through which the energy of who I am can be beamed into a three-dimensional external space.
Even though my brain remained lined with filing cabinets, it was as if all the drawers had been slammed shut. I was aware that I knew all this stuff, that my brain held a wealth of information. But where was it? I was saddened that perhaps those portions of my mind were now lost forever.
Time stood still because that clock that would sit and tick in the back of my left brain, that clock that
helped me establish linearity between my thoughts, was now silent.
I sat waiting for a wave of clarity that would permit my mind to connect two thoughts and give me a chance at forming an idea,
"What is the number at work? Where do I work? The Brain Bank. I work at the Brain Bank. What is the number at the Brain Bank? What am I doing? I’m calling for help. I’m calling work. Okay, what is the number at work?"
On top of my inability to identify my own physical boundaries, and in the absence of my internal clock, I
perceived myself as fluid. Coupled with my loss of long-term and short-term memories, I no longer felt grounded or safe in the external world.
I clearly understood that I was no longer the choreographer of this life. In the absence of sight, sound, touch, smell, taste, and fear, I felt my spirit surrender its attachment to this body and I was released from the pain.
Without a language center telling me: “I am Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor. I am a neuroanatomist. I live at this address and can be reached at this phone number,” I felt no obligation to being her anymore.
I wanted to communicate: Yelling louder does not help me understand you any better! Don’t be afraid of me. Come closer to me. Bring me your gentle spirit. Speak more slowly. Enunciate more clearly. Again! Please, try again! S-l-o-w down. Be kind to me. Be a safe place for me. See that I am a wounded animal, not a stupid animal. I am vulnerable and confused. Whatever my age, whatever my credentials, reach for me. Respect me. I am in here. Come find me.
I spent the rest of my
waking moments that evening trying to piece together
Mother, Mother, Mother. G.G., G.G., G.G.I kept repeating the
words to find those files, open them and remember.
Eventually, I kind of understood what a mother was and
what G.G. represented…enough so that I felt excited that she
would be here tomorrow.
It still blows my mind (so to speak) that I could not see color until I was told that color was a tool I could use. Who would have guessed that my left hemisphere needed to be told about color in order for it to register? I found the same to be true for seeing in three dimensions.
peace is only a thought away, and all we have to do to access it is silence the voice of our dominating left mind.
I really needed people to take responsibility for the kind of energy they brought me.
What price would my right hemisphere consciousness have to pay so I could once again be judged as normal?
We have not learned how to more carefully manage what goes on inside our brains
“Peacefulness should be the place we begin rather than the place we try to achieve.”
To experience peace does not mean that your life is always blissful. It means that you are capable of tapping into a blissful state of mind amidst the normal chaos of a hectic life.
I view the garden in my mind as a sacred patch of cosmic real estate that the universe has entrusted me to tend over the years of my lifetime.
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