‘Trust your instincts,” goes the popular refrain, “and all will be well.”
Strangely enough, this sentence seems to be true. There’s a lot we don’t know about ourselves – mostly because it’s impossible to step outside ourselves to observe ourselves. Science is predicated on evidence through observation – and as a recent argument that I had with a couple of friends concluded – we’ve already reached the limits of observation, at least in the theoretical sense, and at least using the five senses that we presently employ.
Let’s talk about these five senses for a bit. Sight, Smell, Taste, Touch, and Hearing. That takes into account the eyes, the nose, the tongue, the skin, and the ears. Pretty much the whole nine yards (or whatever your particular dimensions may be), yes? However, it still feels like we’re missing something. What about Thought? Is that not a sense? It responds to stimuli, it sends messages to the brain; it makes use of the spinal cord to send it’s messages to the body – ever felt a rush of goose pimples when you have a frightening thought?
All this, though, is so much chaff thrown to the wind. I’ll never be able to prove any of this – as with all the rest of my posts, it’s just a number of random thoughts brought on by too much reading too late into the night. If you’re interested, though, there’s this fantastic book by Arthur C. Clarke called Childhood’s End – very, very thought provoking. And humbling too, for that matter – but read it for yourself, would be my suggestion.
To get back to the point, though – what is instinct? A general definition might be that it’s a bunch of stuff that we don’t really understand, which have therefore been lumped together under this title. For example, it encompasses something as everyday as catching a ball – which if you think about it, involves some pretty hefty three dimensional calculations, in addition to simultaneously firing just the right neurons at just the right time to get your hand in place. On the other hand, it also encompasses the life cycle of the Salmon – when it comes time for them to lay eggs, they somehow manage to find their way back to where they were hatched, no matter that it may be a few hundred kilometres away, and up a couple of waterfalls, for that matter. Impressive stuff, when you consider that another member of the fish family, the goldfish, has a memory span of five seconds.
Hmmm.
One school of thought says that instinct is just the final solution of a mind bogglingly complex bit of calculation done subconsciously, presented to the active part of the brain without the accompanying user manuals. Take it or leave it, seems to be your only choice in the matter. But you ignore it at your own peril.
Another school would scathingly comment that no, it’s your immortal soul responding to cosmic vibrations, or some other stimuli which we cant comprehend, and it’s making itself felt in a way which you can’t quite explain.
When it comes down to proving which of these theories are true – or for that matter, any of the thousands others out there which I’ve conveniently left out – I think the best judge, as ironic as it sounds, is again, your instinct.
Wotsay?
Strangely enough, this sentence seems to be true. There’s a lot we don’t know about ourselves – mostly because it’s impossible to step outside ourselves to observe ourselves. Science is predicated on evidence through observation – and as a recent argument that I had with a couple of friends concluded – we’ve already reached the limits of observation, at least in the theoretical sense, and at least using the five senses that we presently employ.
Let’s talk about these five senses for a bit. Sight, Smell, Taste, Touch, and Hearing. That takes into account the eyes, the nose, the tongue, the skin, and the ears. Pretty much the whole nine yards (or whatever your particular dimensions may be), yes? However, it still feels like we’re missing something. What about Thought? Is that not a sense? It responds to stimuli, it sends messages to the brain; it makes use of the spinal cord to send it’s messages to the body – ever felt a rush of goose pimples when you have a frightening thought?
All this, though, is so much chaff thrown to the wind. I’ll never be able to prove any of this – as with all the rest of my posts, it’s just a number of random thoughts brought on by too much reading too late into the night. If you’re interested, though, there’s this fantastic book by Arthur C. Clarke called Childhood’s End – very, very thought provoking. And humbling too, for that matter – but read it for yourself, would be my suggestion.
To get back to the point, though – what is instinct? A general definition might be that it’s a bunch of stuff that we don’t really understand, which have therefore been lumped together under this title. For example, it encompasses something as everyday as catching a ball – which if you think about it, involves some pretty hefty three dimensional calculations, in addition to simultaneously firing just the right neurons at just the right time to get your hand in place. On the other hand, it also encompasses the life cycle of the Salmon – when it comes time for them to lay eggs, they somehow manage to find their way back to where they were hatched, no matter that it may be a few hundred kilometres away, and up a couple of waterfalls, for that matter. Impressive stuff, when you consider that another member of the fish family, the goldfish, has a memory span of five seconds.
Hmmm.
One school of thought says that instinct is just the final solution of a mind bogglingly complex bit of calculation done subconsciously, presented to the active part of the brain without the accompanying user manuals. Take it or leave it, seems to be your only choice in the matter. But you ignore it at your own peril.
Another school would scathingly comment that no, it’s your immortal soul responding to cosmic vibrations, or some other stimuli which we cant comprehend, and it’s making itself felt in a way which you can’t quite explain.
When it comes down to proving which of these theories are true – or for that matter, any of the thousands others out there which I’ve conveniently left out – I think the best judge, as ironic as it sounds, is again, your instinct.
Wotsay?
5 comments:
yeah, sorry for leaving a mundane, almost definitional sort of comment, but i couldn't think of anything deep to say, and i felt so piqued by what you said that i thought i had to say something, and when i realised that what i was going to say was not deep i started wondering whether i should say it at all or not, but then i thought that i should say it anyway, because after all this is the thought i had, right, and it made no sense to invent a reason to write a post you see, and so i said:
instinct, when not poetically or philosophically defined, is an action that has not been directly determined by the conscious mind, and as you said, all those rushes of responses or whatever. it is an 'automatic' reaction of sorts. you said it yourself.
what was my point?
oh, yeah, that i agreed with that definition.
hmm.
Interesting post, Pig. I prefer to think of instinct a product of the Collective Unconscious (refer to any basic matter on the theory of Carl Jung incase you're not familiar with this concept). Do you think there exists an equation between intuition and instinct?
Not sure about the collective unconscious bit...expand a bit if you have the time?
I think that our bodies respond to our thoughts far more than we think they do - like your stomach squirming when you're embarrased, sort of thing.
If you say intuition in the sense that your entire being is telling you something - well, kind of the brain having figured something out, and the body responding to it regardless of what your active thought might have to say about it - gut feeling kind of thing. That's not to say it's correct - merely a feeling. Which might be interpreted wrong, or whatever. Hmm.
I'm a little tipsy, so i might have to write another, slightly clearer comment on this...heh.
my ittle bittle brother!
Pig, do you mind?? I'm trying to show an intellectual, mature side of myself here...
Ha, fat chance with the moose here.
Oh well.
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