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THIS IS YOUR BRAIN ON JOY
A Revolutionary Program for Balancing Mood, Restoring Brain Health, and Nurturing Spiritual Growth
By Earl Henslin Becky Johnson
Thomas Nelson
Copyright © 2008 Earl Henslin
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4185-7403-1
Chapter One
My First Hug and Other Joyful Brain Matters
Thank you, God, for this good life and forgive us If we do not love it enough. -GARRISON KEILLOR
I come from a family of Minnesota dairy farmers, the population that served as fodder for Garrison Keillor's hilariously stoic Lutheran characters in the famed Prairie Home Companion skits. Just in case you originate from another, more animated part of the country and wonder If such stiff-upper-lipped (albeit, well-meaning) people actually exist in real life, let me assure you, they do. Though at midlife I embrace the basic tenets of my childhood faith, I have to say-with great relief, some good therapy, and the discovery that God is all for being happy-I've gladly dropped the stone-faced expressions that accompanied my religious experience. But my upbringing was straight out of a lake Wobegon novel, where the citizens feel a sense of unease at potentially emotional moments. Keillor could have been describing my own understated kin when he wrote, "left to our own devices we Wobegonians go straight for the small potatoes. Majestic doesn't appeal to us; we like the Grand Canyon better with Clarence and Arlene parked in front of it, smiling."
In my family, unbridled feelings of joy and open emotion were momentous events: full of danger and potential for sin, and to be avoided at all costs. That's why I'll never forget the moment I received my first open-armed, enthusiastic hug.
I was in my early teens, standing in the front yard with my grandfather, grandmother, mom, and dad. About thirty yards from our white clapboard two-story home stood a picturesque red barn on a field of green. We were all gathered together (except for my three younger siblings, whose whereabouts I've forgotten) under the shade of a beautiful maple tree with a trunk about the size of a love seat, Its giant umbrella-like branches providing shade on that hot, humid Minnesota day. The whole scene looked like a Norman Rockwell still life. We were lined up in anticipation of meeting my uncle's fiancée. My uncle came driving Into the yard in a light blue thunderbird, and as the dust settled he jumped out and did something I'd never seen before. Truly, it was like watching some bizarre tribal custom play out before our widening eyes. He walked around to his betrothed's side of the car ... and opened the door. She stepped out, and the world as I knew it was suspended in time.
She was beautiful-a vision of loveliness with brunette hair, sparkling eyes, and doing something I'd not seen often in my family or church: she was smiling! She strode forward with confidence, introduced herself to my grandfather, and did something absolutely unheard of except on Father Knows Best or Leave it to Beaver.
She hugged my grandfather.
My grandfather, whom I felt sure had been born with a King James Bible embedded in his side, had quite the Impressive Christian pedigree: Sunday school superintendent, Sunday school teacher, and a rich bass voice for hymn singing. None of his religious training, however, prepared him for this unbidden display of affection, and his whole body went rigid-with shock, I assume. This newcomer had no idea how many centuries-old family rules she had just violated. Topping the list was the blatant sin of a beautiful young woman embracing a man to whom she was not married. Though I know it sounds odd now, I do not recall ever seeing any couples around me hug in public, and hardly ever in private.
Undaunted, this vision of loveliness moved ahead to my grandmother, another hard-working, devout, dependable pillar of the faith. My grandmother suffered from severe asthma and emphysema, and in the horror of being hugged, not only went stiff from head to toe, but also began to wheeze and cough. She frantically searched in her purse, brought out her inhaler, and began drawing breaths from it in an effort to recover her dignity.
Next up, my mother, who is the product of these two. Same song, third verse-only as I watched her brow wrinkle in physical pain as a result of the unprovoked hug, I knew she was getting a migraine that would probably put her out of commission for the next day or two. Bless her heart, the persistent fiancée walked over to embrace my dad next. I had seen my dad try to hug my mom, but she always moved quickly away, dismissing him with, "Oh, Richard!" His knees stiff from years of milking cows, he rarely, If ever, caught her. (Though by the sheer existence of me and my three siblings, there's proof he must have caught her at least four times.)
The young woman hugged my father, and I was expecting the same wooden reaction from him, but to my surprise, he did not let go! In fact, he wrapped his arms around her and held on as If for his life, like a camel that had just walked two thousand miles across the desert, found an oasis, and was determined to quench his thirst until the well ran dry.
Next, the still-smiling lady hugged me. I was, at this point, in the heat of puberty. I had seen girls like her only in my dreams and now felt as though I'd just been transported to heaven on the wings of her soft embrace. After she and my uncle wed, I always looked forward to my aunt's arrival, knowing I would get a warm, tender hug. She did not know or ask about any of my faults, no prodding Into sins of omission or commission of which I may have been guilty. She just hugged me.
It was for me, my first real taste of God's unconditional love on earth in human form.
Over the years she'd encourage me to reach out to my warm-on-the-inside, fully-concealed-from-the-outside family. "Earl, hug your family even If they act awkward or withdrawn. You can't hug them when they're dead." it took almost a decade of one-sided hugging, but believe it or not, eventually the folks caught on, and hugs are now a routine part of our family's life.
This is not meant to be a negative comment on my family. They're the salt of the earth-good folks with generous hearts. But they struggled so much with verbalizing affection, demonstrating physical love, and showing open-faced, smiling joy.
So you may be asking, what's a guy from a long line of stoics doing writing a book on happiness? Perhaps it is because of my background of sensory deprivation (at least in terms of hugs and smiles), where my family looked upon deeply happy people with a good measure of suspicion, that I developed an almost insatiable curiosity, even fascination, with the subject of joy.
On the one hand, there is the researcher-therapist in me who loves discovering what makes people tick, and tick with a good measure of glee. Deeply joyful people are not terribly commonplace, particularly in my profession where folks usually knock on my door as a last resort for their depressions, obsessions, and traumas. Therefore, when I happen upon people who radiate happiness from the core of their being, it is almost like observing aborigines, a foreign tribe from an altogether other culture. What if I could bottle whatever it is that they have, and share it with the world? It would be perhaps the most meaningful contribution I could make in my earthly existence as a mental health professional and a researcher involved with all things neurological, psychological, and spiritual.
On the other hand, my reasons for writing this book could be, I'll admit it, a bit selfish. For it is said that If we really want something, we should teach or write about it. Embarking on the serious subject of happiness and all its applications and Implications has already given me some wonderful personal payoffs. It is Impossible to apply your mind to the study of joy without experiencing some surges of Insight and all the positive feelings that go along with them. So there, I've said it. Writing this book is just plain fun.
What I've discovered in my research, through reading about the latest scientific breakthroughs, in my experiences with clients in search of happiness, and specifically in studying the brain through SPECT images (more on that later), has been both personally and professionally life-altering. I cannot keep to myself what I've learned about joy: what it is, what it is composed of, and how to find, measure, and keep It. When a man finds a fountain of living water, he doesn't horde it; he shouts about it, shares it.
Jesus spoke of a joy that no man could take away. And it is that joy, that depth of happiness, that we'll be uncovering in the coming pages. What is especially sad to me is how many Christians believe that their lack of joy is due to some spiritual or personal failing or character flaw. "God made some people happy, and some people Eeyores." "There are glass-half-full folks, and glass-half-empty folks."
Is that true? If so, even partially so, how much of our natural disposition determines our potential to approach life from the best possible angle? How much can be changed by our thoughts? By spiritual Intervention? By medication, foods, supplements, or exercise?
Are you reaching, on a daily basis, your absolute highest potential for happiness? Are you bringing your best, most joyful self to the table of your relationships?
And while we're asking questions, by the way, what is happiness or joy? (And is there a difference between the two words?) Is a joyful outlook sustainable during crisis or grief? Do we get it from nature or nurture or supernatural intervention?
Wonderful questions. Questions of the ages posed by centuries of sages. And in time, I'll do my best-by the end of this book-to give you some thoughtful answers gleaned from my study of the Bible and from living life, being a listening ear to friends, and being a professional therapist to clients. And perhaps, most uniquely of all, from what I've learned from my study of and experience with brain science.
What may make this book different, particularly since it is a book written for and from a faith-based standpoint, is that I believe the most logical and compassionate place to begin our search for joy is not necessarily in the Bible. (though we will get there, I promise.) In fact, we'll eventually spend a full chapter examining the apostle Paul's own personal discoveries about joy, a word used sixteen times in his letter to the Philippians (a book, I believe, that was written at the apex of Paul's spiritual maturity and mental health, not long before his death). But we will not start there.
Neither will we begin by observing deeply happy people and how they got that way though that, too, will be part of this book.
I want to begin by examining the most basic element, the seat of our human potential for joy: that three-pound hunk of gray matter between our ears that we call the brain. Dr. Daniel amen, a dear friend, fellow believer, world-renowned neuroscientist, and author of many groundbreaking books on how neurology affects psychology, has called the brain "the hardware of the soul." (and in fact, he has written a thought-provoking book by the same name.) If our hardware Isn't working correctly, Dr. amen explains, all the software we put Into our body's system will be futile, or at best, only work partially well.
I believe that in the Garden of Eden, God created man and woman with beautifully functioning brains. (Yes, brains that were capable of sin and sorrow but healthy, perfect brains equally capable of joy, love, generosity, and goodwill.) After the Fall, everything in creation took a hit, Including the hardwiring of our brains. In other words, all brains today are not equal. Dr. Amen goes so far as to assert that though we have free will, depending on the makeup of our brains, human beings do not all have the same amount of free will. "We assumed that we are all equal and have an equal ability to choose right or wrong, good or evil, and heaven or hell. The brain Imaging work taught me that we are not all equal, and not everyone has the same power to choose."
Only God knows, sees, and can judge how many of our errors are due to our free wills and how many are due to faulty hardwiring. Let me repeat this: only God knows how much of our wrongdoing is the result of pure rebellion or evil intent and how much is caused by brain Imbalances. To judge another is to play God's role and is probably the reason the Bible so often urges us not to do it.
When I see brains that are simply not functioning on all cylinders, it stretches my compassion for patients: they may be absolutely doing the very best they can possibly do with the hardware they are driving. For example, Jim was a man with such angry and unpredictable moods that eventually his adult children refused to allow him to see his grandchildren. At his own wit's end with his Inability to control his rages, he finally took a risk and had a SPECT brain scan done at the amen Clinics (again, more about SPECT scans soon). He discovered that his hyperreactivity was due to an Injury In the temporal lobes from a concussion while playing football in college. Once he was on a mood stabilizer, this Christian leader gained control of his anger for the first time in his life.
Julie's life had been ruled by panic attacks and migraines. She lived in fear that someday she would be driving with her children in her car and have a panic attack, then an accident, possibly Injuring or even killing them all. This all-pervasive fear, along with frequent migraines, would cause her to miss family events, time with friends, and her kids' school functions. Then there was the added guilt of knowing a "good Christian" should not live in fear. She received a new lease on life when she discovered that the medications she'd been on for her headaches were actually contributing to her anxiety! Once the anxiety center in her brain was calmed, she was free to live fully, without debilitating, irrational fear nipping at the corners of her mind.
If only Christians could see what I see-behind the curtain of the skull and Into the brain-I believe we'd be much gentler with each other, and our compassion for strugglers in the average church would soar. For many of you, these pages will offer a true lightbulb moment, relief from false guilt, compassion for others (and yourselves), and hope for a brighter tomorrow. Tragically, too often in religious circles we've been trying to pray away or spiritualize a brain problem-assuming (however well-intentioned) that we or someone else has a sin problem. Or a character flaw. Or a root of bitterness. Or, worse, a demon.
With what I now know about the Inner workings of the brain, I believe that trying to pray away sadness or exorcise a demon from a person whose brain is imbalanced is the equivalent of putting a Band-Aid on a gaping wound, walking away, washing our hands of further responsibility, and praying the gash will close Itself.
Now don't hear me wrong. Prayer works. Prayer heals. (And you'll read In these pages how science supports this fact.) But there is our part, the part God has allowed us to discover and uncover, that is just as significant in our journey toward physical or mental healing. And not just healing our hurts, but also upsizing and expanding the mental health we may already be enjoying.
There's no way to know if someone's joy is being sabotaged by sin or circumstantial sorrow or a brain Imbalance until we take a look under the hood, at the hardware. So this is where we will start. (The great thing about being an author is you get to create the agenda.)
(Continues...)
Excerpted from THIS IS YOUR BRAIN ON JOY by Earl Henslin Becky Johnson Copyright © 2008 by Earl Henslin. Excerpted by permission.
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