Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Where do Memories Reside?

I often have the most amazing thoughts and ideas while swimming.

Sometimes I have a lot of scattered thoughts that bounce around my head, and sometimes my thoughts are clear, concise, organized, focused.

I have been swimming at my local pool for a really long  time.  Yesterday, while swimming, I reflected upon an interview I read recently, which, in turn, prompted me to check out the book, Science Set Free, by Rupert Sheldrake.  The interview of Sheldrake was in the Sun Magazine, and seemed to fit right in with all the new things I've been learning about lately.


One thing Sheldrake talks about in the interview and in his recent books is the idea that memory does not exist within our brains:
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"Leviton: If, as you say, memory does not reside in the brain, then where is it? And can it survive the death of the individual to whom it belongs?

Sheldrake:Where?” is the wrong question. Memory is a relationship in time, not in space. The idea that a memory has to be somewhere when it’s not being remembered is a theoretical inference, not an observation of reality. When I met you this morning, I recognized you from yesterday. There’s no photographic representation of you in my brain. I just recognize you. What I suggest is that memory depends on a direct relationship across time between past experiences and present ones. The brain is more like a television receiver. The television doesn’t store all the images and programs you watch on it; it tunes in to them invisibly.

It may sound radical, but this idea was put forward not only by Bergson but also by philosophers Bertrand Russell and Ludwig Wittgenstein. They all challenged the notion that a memory has to be somewhere in the brain. The whole of the past is potentially present everywhere, and we access it on the basis of similarity. I think we’re tuning in not only to our own past experiences but to the memories of millions of people who are now dead — a collective memory. It’s similar to psychologist Carl Jung’s concept of a collective unconscious or Hinduism’s akashic records, which store all knowledge on another plane of existence.

Yes, there’s the potential for the memory to survive the death of the brain. Whether there’s survival of an individual’s memory, my theory doesn’t predict one way or the other. It leaves the question open, whereas the conventional theory is that, once the brain decays at death, all memories are wiped out."
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I was intrigued by the idea that memory does not exist within our brains, but rather exists across time, AND is outside ourselves.
 
Since reading that article, I began taking note of spontaneous memories.  Not reminiscent memories like thinking back to when my oldest child was a baby, but memories that seemed to be triggered by place or smell or sound.  Like, for instance, the other morning I was driving into the back parking lot where I work, and I remembered a very intense dream I had way back when I first started working a real job, which, ironically, happened to be in the same building I work in now.  The action of driving into the parking lot seemed to be the trigger for remembering the dream. When the dream had occurred, I had reflected upon the intensity of the dream the morning I'd had it while driving into work.  I hadn't thought of that dream in over 16 years, probably, but as I drove in, it was like the place, maybe the lighting, triggered the memory, because the memory was stored there in that place somehow. 


So, yesterday morning, I was swimming and thinking about how long I've swam in that pool...since I was 16. When I was in my early 20s, I started swimming laps regularly, so for about the past 18 years I've been swimming and thinking continuously in that same pool.

And Then I thought about all the thoughts I've had.  

I've recently been reading about how thoughts can impact our cells. I'm currently reading The Biology of Belief, by Bruce Lipton. I do not know how I missed this book in the years since it has been published.  It is mind blowing, and exceptionally easy to understand. It also appears to put answers to the ideas I've had for years regarding the power of positive thinking. My Mother is the queen goddess of positive thinking, although her affirmations are cloaked in Christian prayers.  But I always felt like there really was something to it all.  She shunned negative talk and always encouraged (sometimes too strongly) that I think in a manner that was in line with my desired outcome.  But, this is all a topic for another blog so I'll leave it at that for now.

So, back to the swimming pool...

While I was swimming, I thought about how many billions of thoughts that I have had in that pool.  Then I thought about the gazillions and gazillions of thoughts that all people who have swam there have had.  And then I remembered the memory thing.  

I thought about the years before I ever became pregnant, and how I would wrestle with the idea of pregnancy and motherhood and whether it was for me.  And then once I became pregnant, I wrestled with the reality of being pregnant, and thought and thought about all those what ifs, and what will bes.

And then I had the most profound thought that it rocked me to the very center of my bones.  I realized that all those thoughts and memories are there in the pool.  Every molecule of water, every molecule of the cement, all the beams, and wood, and windows, everything that makes up the pool maintains that energy of all the thoughts of all the people who swim there.  I thought of all the world class Olympic athletes that have come there to swim.  I thought of all the high-energy kids who swim there every day, pushing harder and learning more. All the old people trying to stay strong, and the babies just feeling the water. Sure, some of those things get washed out when they drain the pool every year, but that water interacts with the structure of the pool itself all day every day for a year.

The feeling I had when I had that thought was overwhelming.  I literally felt my bones vibrate and it was as if the entire pool structure acknowledged my thought. 

I have been in the midst of a huge life transformation.  To me, it feels like this event in my life, which has been going on now for 11 months, is still in the beginning phase.  Learning about quantum physics, epigenetics, morphic resonance, New Biology, all these things are assisting in this molting that I seem to be going through.  Overall, I remain positive that all things will work out.  That all is as it is meant to be.  But I must remain focused and energized. I must start taking action. This idea I had in the pool yesterday, was just another little piece of this big puzzle being put into place.  

I guess that is the puzzle of this life.

   
 

Friday, March 1, 2013

My N=1: Grounding and Cold Water Immersions

The water is your friend.  You don't have to fight with water, just share the same spirit as the water, and it will help you move.  ~Aleksandr Popov

Since May of 2012, I've been exposing myself regularly to cold water.  During the summer months it was easy to do as I swam nearly every day of the week.  Instead of toweling off, I'd let the dry desert air evaporate the water off my skin.  Through the heat of the summer, I enjoyed cold showers and an occasional cold bath. I found mountain streams whenever I could find the time, and set myself down amongst the rocks, algae, and the sing-song of the river.

At the same time that I started embracing the cold water, I also started the practice of sitting on a cliff-edge, where I would write, reflect, and observe.  I didn't realize it for most of last year, but what I was doing was the combined practice of cold water therapy and grounding. It made me happy! Thus began my N=1.

For nearly all of human history, humans have been in intimate contact with the Earth and her elements. We slept on the ground, or in caves or mud-floored huts and houses. As the modern age has evolved, however, humans have been disconnecting from the earth more and more.  Tall buildings were erected, asphalt laid down, sidewalks constructed, shoes became sturdier, transportation became more efficient. People wear shoes everywhere,often constructed of  thick rubber or plastic, a platform is created between the feet and the earth. We sleep in our houses, above the ground, in our beds, above the floor. We wake from our raised beds and put on our shoes. We get in our cars and drive to our work places where we sit in our chairs, in our offices that are usually above the ground.

Perhaps we like working out, so we'll put on our high-tech shoes like Vibram 5-fingers, or other such gadgetry, and head to the gym.  Maybe we'll run on the treadmill for 45 minutes.  Maybe we'll spin, or lift weights, or do a class. 

Then it's back to our workspace where we sit for another few hours before driving home.  Once home, many numbers of things require our attention, and so we tend to those things before finding a comfortable spot on the sofa, where we rest for a bit before heading off to our raised beds.

It is fairly surprising how easy it is to never touch the ground. We can go for days, weeks, even months without feeling grass beneath our feet, or mud between our toes.  And how many people make it a priority to ensure they maintain a connection to the Earth? How many people think that's just plain "woo?" Conversely, how many people make contact with the Earth without even thinking about it, just following their desire to sit in the grass, or lie down on a rock, thus nurturing their connectedness with their selves and the Earth?

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My younger, more idealized self wanted to live in a cave.  I live where there are caves, cavates, actually, and I visit them frequently.  When I lived in the Pacific Northwest, I wanted to move home and live in one of these caves, like the Anasazi did hundreds of years ago.  I felt an indescribable draw to these caves.  I still do.  Just sitting in them, or near them, imparts a feeling of peace, awareness, tranquility. I've slept in some of these caves, many moons ago, and enjoyed evening on the "patios" outside of them.

The ancient pueblo people lived in these caves, as well as stacked-rock dwellings with Earth as their floor. They used skins for their warmth and protection from the elements.  They made shoes from yucca fiber or skin. But always, they were ever-connected to the Earth.


The majority of modern-day humans, however, want nothing to do with ancient lifestyles.  The convenience of modern technology and products, makes it easy to indulge in comfort.  Why weave shoes from yucca fiber when you can get it shipped overnight? Why sleep in a cave, when you can have a warm home?  Why go barefoot when you can have the latest, greatest, hipster footwear?  (Trust me, I love shoes, so I'm not going to lie about it.)

There are times when modern-day people connect with the Earth.  Beach vacations, ski vacations, Sundays at the shore, swimming at the lake, a day at the ocean...people do these things because they are enjoyable, reviving, relaxing, and energizing.


We spend the afternoon/day/weekend/week/vacation at these lovely locations, and we recharge. We come home feeling rejuvenated. But, as life has it, we get back home and return to our busy, full lifestyles and quickly fall back to our typical status quo. 

For some reason, as outdoorsy and connected to nature as I am, I realized that work and schedules and personal goals were somehow working to create a disconnect in my life. Even though I still strived to be outside as much possible, I discovered that I had become reliant on driving everywhere for everything, in this teeny, tiny town where I live!  Where I used to bike commute 90% of the time, I was biking maybe 0.5% of the time (that stat still stands, at the current moment).  Where I used to hike up in the mountains outside my door several days a week, I discovered I was hiking maybe once every couple of months, if that.  I used to mountain bike all the time, and my bike was covered in dust in the garage.  The lack of snow each year meant that I wasn't snowboarding, skiing, and snowshoeing as much as I used to.

Time was slipping away, my babies were getting bigger.  I was working, cooking, cleaning, shopping, trying to maintain my household.  Even though I'd make concerted efforts to workout, to swim, to run, I still was not doing what I would call "real connecting" with the Earth.  With Nature.  Experiencing that quiet, still reflection on being alive and part of this world.

When I climbed regularly, I used to lie on rocks for hours each weekend, in addition to the time spent actually climbing them.  Often I was tired and sore from the energy spent trying to figure out the movements necessary to get up a rock face or crack, but I felt sublime.

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After the first snow fell, I stopped going outside to my spot.  I started giving in to indulgences. The holiday excuses crept in and I gave in, because, "nobody likes a fanatic," right?  I started having headaches regularly. My hormones suddenly tanked. I was irritable, and my previously blissful sleep started heading to the shitter.
It wasn't until someone brought up grounding that I realized what I might be missing. 

Around Christmas, the winter MovNat workshop presented itself.  I received a holiday bonus and decided to go for it.  MovNat does not necessarily incorporate cold water immersion into it's programs, but connection with nature is key.  Because I signed up, and I knew we'd be experiencing cold, I was determined to increase my cold adaptation.

I started by taking ice cold showers after swimming.  Then I graduated to ice cold baths in my own bathroom.  Once we received snow, I buried myself in snow and stayed in it for as long as time allowed. I continued with the cold baths and showers.

When the workshop began, I was definitely adapted to the cold. The first day, we didn't do any real cold immersions, but we were outside, at altitude, in the cold all day.  We finished the day with bare-skin, breathing/meditation.  The second day involved much natural wet, cold conditions, but we had the absolute remarkable treat of spending a number of hours at Ten Thousand Waves, a Japanese-style spa where a cold-plunge tub sits alongside a large heated tub and sauna.  Talk about bliss extreme!

At the spa, workshop participants experimented with longer and longer cold-tub immersions, while rewarding themselves with the hot tub or sauna.  This was repeated innumerable times throughout the afternoon, all with the excellent conversation, illumination, and debate with the venerable Jack Kruse, as well as Erwan LaCorre, and each one of the workshop participants..

The third day was spent at a beautiful, high desert lake environment.  The starkness of sandstone cliffs, rugged, desert river setting, and frozen lake provided ample opportunity for each person to relish in the absolute beauty, ruggedness, and winter coldness.



After learning and practicing new natural movement techniques along the canyon floor, we all coated ourselves in mud.  I, for one, enjoyed the zing of the cold water rush experienced while washing myself off.  It was truly exhilarating.  For most of the afternoon, we had been walking barefoot, along the river, and doing new and more involved movement exercises for quite some time. The mud bath, which was a simple reminder of what most of us enjoyed as children, seemed to enhance the connection to the Earth.  Erwan reminded us that many people pay a lot of money for mud wraps, etc.  Mud is free.  It is available.  But most people are unwilling to find it because they simply don't even think about it. After the exhilarating rinsing in the river, we headed down stream to where the river met the frozen lake.


Weeks of subzero temperatures gifted us with an amazingly blue, frozen landscape.  Once again, cold-water immersion became our movement of the moment.  Each participant immersed in the deeper water.  Some squatted on the floating ice. Some swam beneath the ice. After drying off, we headed down-canyon.  This is when, I am certain, everyone's feet hurt.  Mine were in the thralls of what us ice climbers call the screaming mimi's...ouch!!!  But once I put on my shoes, the pain diminished pretty quickly. Amazing what a couple degrees will do.


The fourth MovNat day was the most physical, mental, and difficult, in my opinion.  I will leave that day for another blog.

The final day involved hot springs and cold river soaks, along with a whole host of new movement techniques and a final MovNat ending.  By this day, I truly was tired.  Other than Jack Kruse and  Erwan, the MovNat founder, I was the oldest participant, and the only Mom (the only female, too...), and I was definitely feeling sore.  Not physically tired, really, but just sore. And a bit emotionally tired.

I had prepared to spend our final day in the weather.  I thought that we would be along basalt cliffs, and using the Rio Grande for cold immersions.  This is what our plan had been. As I was driving to Santa Fe, it was blizzarding.  Apparently it was blizzarding from where Erwan was coming from, as well.  As a result of the really extreme weather, and being that it was our final day, and most of us were physically tired, we ended up retreating to an alternative location. We ended up spending the morning doing more hot/cold therapy. The location was beautiful.  Natural hot springs, a very cold river, easy access, and some excellent ground for putting all the MovNat lessons into practice.




Inspired by the workshop, and having a slightly different mind set regarding where to focus my energy and which physical activities I really wanted to invest my time in, I've continued with regular cold water immersions.

I have been taking cold baths.


I have been walking barefoot on cold earth. I've been sitting outside on the grass, lying on rocks, sitting next to trees, whenever I can.


I have continued to practice the MovNat techniques, like hanging, climbing, moving on trees, practicing jumping techniques, balancing on trees and rocks, and seeing obstacles all over the place. I haven't been able to find it in my heart to go to the class I loved so much.

Instead, I have been seeking out cold water in my environment.  Living in the mountain/desert climate I'm in, especially during a long-run drought, does not allow for easy access to ample water.  However, I have my secrets.  And I'm a water person.  I'm intutively drawn to water like a dragonfly. I have some stashes.

So, despite fire and drought, I set out to see whether or not the water I knew about was still there.



It turns out, it is.

So, now I have a new draw.  A passion that pulls me, even when I think perhaps, that I should be doing something else.  For the past three weeks, I've been to this water.  I've sat my naked body down into the chasm of a canyon, where natural spring water pumps out and rushes down to the canyon floor.



I heard a great-horned owl the first time I left the canyon.  It who-who-hooed me as I walked out with frozen feet.  Several times now it has who-who-hooed me again.

My N=1 experiment is all about natural, cold water, and grounding.  It is my premise that being in cold water in the natural environment is a) better than being in cold water in my own personal bathtub; and b) includes grounding; and c) I will experience an increase in positive outcomes as a result of this cold water in a natural environment experiment, including a heightened sense of well-being, a natural balance of my endocrine system (which I will verify using labs), and an increasing adaptability to cold water environments.

I will continue to note the effects that I can observe, which will be a post for another time.