The Brain's Dance: Perceiving Life's Rhythms and Beauty
I was watching the sun go down the other day, when something hit me. I wasn't really seeing the sun "set" at all. What I was actually noticing were the changes - the shifting colours, the gradual dimming of light. It got me thinking about how our brains work, because we don't actually see things for what they are, all we notice is change.
See, here's the kicker: our brains don't actually perceive reality as it is. Nope, they're far too lazy for that. Instead, they've evolved to be super-efficient, only really paying attention to changes in our environment. It's like our grey matter is a super picky teenager, only bothering to get off the couch when something interesting happens.
And get this - there's actual science behind this idea. Some folks at the University of Washington did a study that showed how the electrical activity in our brains follows something called a "power-law scaling" [1]. In simple terms, it means our brains are always balancing between order and chaos, kind of like they're surfing on the edge of change.
But here's where it gets even cooler. There's this whole field of study called neuroaesthetics that looks at how our brains perceive and create art. One of the big names in this field is a guy named Semir Zeki. He's got this idea that artists are, in a way, neuroscientists. They're unconsciously tapping into how our brains work to create stuff that we find beautiful or moving [2].
Zeki talks about how our brains are constantly trying to make sense of the world, to find patterns and meaning. And when we look at art, our brains are doing the same thing - they're searching for the essential, constant properties of objects and surfaces. It's like our brains are playing a never-ending game of "spot the difference" and "find the pattern" all at once [3].
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Think about it. When you're in a quiet room, you don't notice the silence until a sudden noise breaks it. Or how about that ticking clock on your wall? You probably tune it out until someone mentions it, and then suddenly it's all you can hear. Our brains are constantly playing this game of "spot the difference" with the world around us. You smell a person when you meet them, or a room, but you don’t after a matter of seconds, your brain has adjusted to this new version of normal. There is no evolutionary reason (survival or reproduction) for me to pay attention to this stimulus anymore.
This got me wondering about all those times when we feel most at peace. You know, those moments of "soft fascination" when we're just vibing with the world. Like when you're watching leaves rustle in the breeze, or listening to the rhythmic crash of waves on the shore. Maybe these zen-like states happen because our brains are happily surfing the gentle waves of change, not being jolted by sudden shifts. And maybe, just maybe, this is why we find certain patterns in nature so beautiful. Our brains are grooving to the rhythms they detect! Maybe these moments of sensory and mental congruence are what we find calming, just like with music, our heartbeat starts adjusting to the beat, maybe with watching nature our brain waves start syncing in harmony.
It's funny when you think about it. We've got this super-advanced brain that's evolved over millions of years, and what's its grand strategy? "If it ain't changing, it ain't worth noticing." Talk about being energy-efficient! And you know what? There's a scientific principle behind this too. The second law of thermodynamics, and some researchers think it might explain how our brains process information [4]. Basically, our thoughts might be following the same rules that govern the flow of energy in the universe.
But here's where it gets really interesting. This lazy, pattern-seeking brain of ours might just be the foundation for some pretty profound stuff. All those practices we've come up with over the years - mindfulness, meditation, finding your "calm place" - they might all be tapping into this basic feature of our brains.
When we practise mindfulness, we're essentially training our brains to notice the small changes, the subtle shifts in our breath, our thoughts, our surroundings. It's like we're fine-tuning our change-detection systems, making them more sensitive and appreciative of the small stuff. And when we look at art? We might be doing something similar - training our brains to detect and appreciate subtle patterns and changes that the artist has captured.
And what about those moments of "flow" that athletes and artists talk about? Maybe that's what happens when our brains are so in tune with the rhythms and changes of what we're doing that everything else fades away. It's like our change-detectors are so focused on the task at hand that the rest of the world disappears. Zeki might say this is our brain's pattern-recognition systems working in perfect harmony [5].
Speaking of rhythms, did you know that even our muscles have their own vibrations? Some scientists found that when we move, our muscles actually dampen these vibrations, kind of like shock absorbers [6]. It's as if our whole body is constantly adjusting to the rhythms of life, from our brains right down to our toes!
This whole idea has made me look at life's ups and downs differently. Maybe those big, dramatic changes we all crave - the plot twists, the surprises, the dramatic revelations - are just our bored brains crying out for stimulation. And maybe true contentment comes from learning to appreciate the smaller oscillations, the gentle rhythms that are always there if we learn to tune into them. Maybe that's what great art does - it helps us see these rhythms and patterns in new ways.
It's like our lives are this big, complex symphony. Most of the time, we're waiting for the cymbal crashes and drum solos. But what if the real beauty is in the subtle harmonies, the quiet melodies that underpin the whole thing? That's where the magic of art comes in - it can help us tune into these subtler frequencies, showing us beauty in places we might have overlooked.
So next time you're feeling antsy or bored, remember - your brain is probably just hunting for its next change fix. Maybe try tuning into the smaller stuff instead. Feel your breath going in and out. Listen for that ticking clock. Watch the play of light and shadow as the day progresses. Or hey, maybe lose yourself in a great piece of art and see what patterns and rhythms your brain picks up on.
Because here's the thing - life is always changing, always in motion. Our brains might be lazy, but they're also incredibly sophisticated instruments for detecting and appreciating these changes. And who knows? By learning to dance with these subtle rhythms, by training our brains to spot the beauty in the everyday, we might just find that calm, that peace, that sense of connection we're all looking for.
After all, in a world that's always changing, maybe the real trick is learning to enjoy the dance - and to see the art in every step.
References:
Miller, K., Sorensen, L., Ojemann, J., & Nijs, M. (2009). Power-law scaling in the brain surface electric potential. Plos Computational Biology, 5(12), e1000609. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pcbi.1000609
Zeki, S. (1999). Inner Vision: An Exploration of Art and the Brain. Oxford University Press.
Zeki, S. (2001). Essays on science and society. Artistic creativity and the brain. Science, 293(5527), 51-52. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.1062331
Varpula, S., Annila, A., & Beck, C. (2013). Thoughts about thinking: cognition according to the second law of thermodynamics. Advanced Studies in Biology, 5, 135-149. https://doi.org/10.12988/asb.2013.13012
Zeki, S. (2004). The neurology of ambiguity. Consciousness and Cognition, 13(1), 173-196. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.concog.2003.10.003
Wakeling, J. and Nigg, B. (2001). Modification of soft tissue vibrations in the leg by muscular activity. Journal of Applied Physiology, 90(2), 412-420. https://doi.org/10.1152/jappl.2001.90.2.412
