Mission Control…

 

Visualize the images of “mission control” that you might have seen as part of any space shuttle launches or a scene from the movie Apollo 13. Another good image to conjure would be the “bridge” from the starship Enterprise in Star Trek. uss_enterprise_alternate_reality_bridgeIn each of these images you have a similar underlying idea of a location where a massive amount of “sensory” data flows into a command center. Advanced technology and highly skilled resources review every bit of data that is possible to capture, scanning the data stream for any anomalies or patterns. Once something “blips,” attention is immediately focused on that aberration and a reaction is mounted:

“Captain, they’re raising their shields!”

What happens next is immediate: “Red Alert”

There is a structure in the human brain called the amygdala. It is part of what is known as the limbic system. The amygdala is located in the temporal lobe of the brain – in close proximity to the brain stem.

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Source: brainmadesimple.com

There are some who refer to the amygdala as the fear center of the brain; it is considered by others to be the emotion-processing center of the brain. I like to consider the amygdala “mission control” or, maybe more accurately, a “strategic command center.”

 

It is the amygdala that signals “Red Alert” in the brain. The amygdala is the emergency management system in the brain using to separate pathways of response. The amygdala is the initial, immediate, instantaneous response to anomaly.

There is also a data stream to the amygdala’s mission control that links through the sensory cortex of the brain. This secondary data stream provides the problem-solving associated with the “red alert.”

To give some context to how the amygdala processes and responds to the data that streams through it, let’s talk about a walk I took through a nature park near my home. It was a balmy late-summer day. Beautiful clear skies and roughly eighty degrees – it was a perfect day for a walk on the asphalt path of the park.

As I was strolling through the path, enjoying the beauty of the gorgeous day, my attention suddenly snapped to an object that had been laying on the edge of the path as it began to stretch itself out across the width of the path.   My immediate reaction was to stop. It took a millisecond or two longer for my brain to grasp that it wasn’t a stick that was moving, it was a snake! I took an instinctive step backwards away from the snake as I was observing how long it was before I remembered that I live in a part of the world where few poisonous snakes are found outside zoos and pet stores. I then took a step closer to see if I could capture a picture of the reptile with my cellphone because I didn’t recall that garter snakes could grow to three feet in length.

My amygdala was responsible for the immediate snap of my attention to the unexpected movement on the side of the path, the immediate stop and my step backwards: Whoa – stop – safe distance!

The curiosity and inquisitive action that occurred once my initial startle had passed reflected that my amygdala had moved from the immediate “survival” response into processing through the sensory cortex which transformed my initial surprise into an investigative process. “What is that?”

Another good example of this blended pathway of sensory processing would be an adult’s response to a loud noise. An explosion occurs, your amygdala has you “jumping” and turning your head in the direction of the sound before your eyes, ears, and nose are reporting that the car next to you backfired.

The amygdala generates the “Houston, we have a problem” response. The sensory cortex pathway brings forth the investigative team: what was that? What direction did it come from? Have we seen this before? Who is involved? Etc.

All incoming stimulus – visual, auditory, tactile, spatial – is processed through the amygdala. There is a constant stream of data flowing through – even when you are not conscious of it. In all truth, the amygdala is reviewing this stream of data particularly when you are not conscious of it.

Is anyone reading this asking themselves why I would be including this information in a blog about addiction and recovery?  I’d love to hear your thoughts…

Meet Magellan…

Last Friday, I was sailing with a friend in the middle of the Long Island Sound.  I looked down to find a grasshopper exploring the roof of the cabin on my sailboat.  Sunday I was sailing again – once again in the middle of the Sound easily three miles from shore. As I IMG_0608was sitting by the tiller, I happened to look to my left and came eye to eye with a different grasshopper!

Meet my new friend Magellan.

My response to this close encounter was to laugh (after I got over my initial shock at having this creature so close to my face).  And then I began looking for God as coincidences in my life usually let me know that my Higher Power is present.  I’ve owned this boat for over a decade, having one grasshopper aboard was noteworthy – having two in three days was unprecedented.

So Magellan remained with me for the remainder of the day on Sunday – about three hours of sailing.  He quite happily maintained his position on the rail with his antennae flowing in the westerly breeze.  As I moored the boat in the harbor, I carried on a conversation with him extolling the virtues of the foliage surrounding us and wishing him joy for wherever his travels would take him. And I got off the boat.

I returned to the boat on Monday to enjoy my lunch in the glorious weather.  I climbed aboard and got the cushions all comfy for my meal and some meditation.  When I happened to look up and I found myself once again eye to eye with Magellan.  He had made his way around the cockpit and was now perched on the teak rails of the cabin.

Now I am really intrigued.  Not only was a grasshopper on the boat, it was the same creature as the day before – this is getting interesting.  I greeted him and let him know that I was concerned for his health as I was now wondering if he might have flown into the sails the day before and injured himself.

I settled on one of the cockpit benches to meditate.  I opened up an app I use, started the guided meditation and closed my eyes concentrating on the meditation and the movement of the boat.

A horn sounded.  My eyes snapped open and I had the pleasure of watching Magellan walking his way across the roof of the cabin toward my phone that was playing meditation music.  I turned the sound off, the grasshopper stopped moving.  Ok, now we’re in really strange territory!

While all this was unfolding, the thought that kept circling around in my head was, “Is it odd or is it God?” But I couldn’t immediately see the message.  I sent a friend a text with Magellan’s picture and she helpfully provided a link about the grasshopper totem and what it might mean.  I read the information:  patience, prosperity, perseverance.  Okay, I get it but why now?  Why today?

As I was reflecting on this creature  and why he had been dropped into my life it dawned on me that he might be legitimately injured, hence his prolonged visit on my boat.  That left me with the dilemma of what to do next.  I certainly wasn’t going to jump into codependency, grab a cup and bring him home.  But at the same time I was uncomfortable just leaving him.

Being me, I jumped on the internet to determine what grasshoppers actually eat (okay – I’m not taking him home but I’m also not leaving him to starve if he is injured!)  I was quite pleased to learn that any plant-based carbohydrate might appeal.  I just happened to have a bunch of grapes in my bag.  Feeling absolutely ridiculous that I was worried about the health and welfare of this grasshopper, I bit a few grapes in half and strategically located them within antenna distance of Magellan.

Screen Shot 2016-09-01 at 5.31.21 PMTo my surprise and glee, Magellan walked over and began to eat.  I sat there watching as his antennae blew rhythmically in the wind.  He investigated each broken grape, nibbled a bite or two and moved to the next.  And that is when the lesson hit me directly between the eyes.  Here was yet another metaphor for recovery.

When I started the process of recovery, I was adrift in an ocean of my drugs of choice.  Literally – quite literally – drowning in my addiction and the bad choices that arose from it.

And much like my friend Magellan, by God’s grace alone, I found myself on the boat called love, sailing in the direction of the safe harbor of unconditional love and acceptance – a place I had never been before.  On that first leg of my journey, I relied on the skills and wisdom of others for navigation.  I had no clue where I was going or much less how to get there, but I was carried by my home groups until I could carry myself.

But even in a safe harbor, life isn’t simple or straightforward – challenging things happen – people die, we lose our jobs, we are unexpectedly injured, our bodies age.  Even when we are on the boat called love, difficulties arise that challenge us, our ability to cope and our recoveries.  In sailing terms, life can be smooth sailing until a ferry leaves a wake immediately adjacent to the boat – everything rocks, stuff falls everywhere and you have to hold on so you don’t fall too.

During those hard times, when we can’t figure out what to do, when we’re injured and can’t do for ourselves, when those waves of change have rocked every part of our lives and seem particularly hard to navigate and downright unfair, it is easy to question our faith and to wonder if God truly loves us.  Those dry periods where everything is rocking, we can’t see the path through and it feels like God has abandoned us can be some of the most difficult times of recovery.

And then, one day, boom, out of nowhere, in an environment where it is wholly unexpected, grapes appear.  My needs are taken care of in ways that I simply couldn’t imagine (I mean really, do you think any self-respecting grasshopper would be expecting grapes to drop out of the sky in the middle of a harbor?).  Literally, manna from heaven arrives in my life.

So this little grasshopper became the guru for me earlier this week.  His presence in my day led me to being reminded of a powerful lesson about patience with God.  He served as a potent reminder from my Higher Power.

I had been journaling that morning about the discomfort of living in the “space between the miracles.”  The space between the miracles are those points in recovery where change isn’t happening (or happening fast enough for me !), when I don’t have the clarity I feel I need, or when the struggle for growth is overwhelming and feels like it will last forever.  In my mind, the God of my Understanding sent Magellan to remind me that grapes are on their way in my life, that I can’t predict amazing and that gratitude for where I am and a willingness to just show up in faith will lead me to them.