biological emotions and laughing goldfish

Lisa Feldman Barrett, psychology professor at Northeastern University, reduces the emotional states of being into four categories, in her book, How Emotions Are Made (Pan Macmillan, 2017). These four proto-emotions are, in essence, the messages your brain derives from your nervous system, the pure biological pulses that ultimately guide our relationship with the world around us:

Pleasantness
Unpleasantness
Arousal
Calmness

Everything else, from happiness to sadness to disgust and so on, says Barrett, are learned reactions. Passion is culturally transmitted.

In identifying these raw materials of emotion, we might draw a closer understanding of the experience of that-which-is-not-human, even perhaps that-which-is-not-mammal, as pleasant — even mildly arousing — is the notion that this may be an indication of some broader universality.

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Here is one of my favorite Chuang Tzu stories, which for me settles any argument over the existence of universal experience, and imparts the listener to "trust their gut" on this matter. Our relationship with the world around us is much tighter than we tend to consciously acknowledge:

Two old friends were crossing a bridge over a pond. One paused to look down, and noticed a school of goldfish swimming below. "Look, how those goldfish are playing and laughing!" His friend glanced down, nodded, and then replied, "How is it you know these fish are experiencing some form of happiness? Maybe they are simply swimming in the fashion that such fish swim, not happy, but neutral, and that you are imagining their emotion? You can never ask a fish! Does it not seem foolish to you to ascribe human feelings to simple creatures?"

His friend thought about this for a little while, peered one more time at the fish below, and then, waving his friend forward on their walk mentioned, "I know those fish are happy because I, too, have known happiness."

——

I used this story to put the 26 forms of cognitive bias into context, as well, "Cognitive Bias and the Laughing Goldfish."

As I click "publish" on this post, two blue jays are squealing in the flower box outside my window. They sound aroused!

Seasons of the Plague

Mild winters, cool moist springs, and early summers are reportedly the worst times for the Black Death.

Of Apples and Other Daily Prescriptions for Perfect Health

"An apple a day keeps the doctor away." Of course a fool lives by aphorism alone. If this one was written by a true believer or the Fruit Grower's Association, I do not know, but Chiquita Banana has trademarked the line that bananas are quite possibly nature's perfect food.
Houston mail carrier Jeff McKissack was motivated only on his faith in the orange. He built a monument to the fruit.  (McKissack died two days shy of his 78th birthday.)

So many singular keys to perfect health have been declared, an entire blog could be devoted to the subject.

The patron saint of practical advice, Benjamin Franklin, would have us believe that the secret to good health, wealth and wisdom is a sufficiently early bedtime.


A past yoga teacher talked of her yogi's belief that one should perform a daily inversion, even if no other exercise is done. It is very important to turn the organs of the body upside down at least once a day.
Many yoga practicioners believe the sun salutation, Surya Namaskara, a short and simple range of poses, is the healthiest habit (even if you don't get up before sunrise, Mr. Franklin).

The great Cheng Man Ching, who brought Tai Chi to New York City and the West, declared that the cat stance was the most important exercise of the day. Considering the bio-structural inferiority of the human knee and ankle (indeed, Cheng Man Ching was also of the opinion that Americans' ankles were their most troubled joint), balancing on one leg at a time for a couple minutes everyday would seem well-advised.

Robert Chesebrough invented and ate a teaspoon of Vaseline Petroleum Jelly everyday and lived to be 96. [Schwager, E.. "From Petroleum Jelly to Riches". Drug News & Perspectives 11 (2): p. 127.]


My friend, the late H. Richard Crane, when asked how he managed to stay so sharp well into his nineties, answered that one needs hobbies.
My Granny also lived into her nineties, and had neither hobbies nor a single medical issue. She often declared that she looked forward to passing away one day, that she would then be reunited with her husband, my grandfather, in the afterlife.