The whole time I’ve been ALFing, there’s been something about the end of year 3. An aura, or a promise: threes are magical. When I was uncertain, blindsided by a question for the first time, moving through a situation I had never encountered, traversing the part of the map labeled here be dragons, I felt that promise – things would loosen. I would find ease, after year three. I would be able to keep the tops spinning. I held hands with that promise, I believed in my future-ALF self. Now I am that future-ALF; today is the last Writing Time of the school year. Tomorrow is the last climbing trip. Friday is the last Check-In and Change-Up. Next week is the final week – the time for picnics and park trips and the Rockaways. The roses on my block are blooming. I am tender. This cycle is closing.
This post is an aggregate of what I’ve learned this yearcycle – an incomplete and earnest attempt to get better at sharing my learning. I’ve learned a lot about myself in the first three years of ALFing, a lot about the ways that I learned to relate to and disassociate from my body to survive schooling. I didn’t know what I didn’t know.
I started this year by spending my birthday writing a long, hard post about what I want, the question at the cornerstone of SDE. It was scary to post – prior to publishing it, I was not out on the internet as a trans person, and I didn’t know I was ready to occupy a public space so vulnerably. Sitting here, on the other side of the year, I’m grateful for my day-of-birth courage (I’m 27, which is three nines…). In three years, the most profound lesson I’ve learned is that the things my body wants are valid, even if those things are hard. A lot of the rest is just variations on this theme. (See the two featured posts below for my years 1 and 2 ramblings on it.)
Since then, I’ve been on 25 field trips, made an obscene amount of slime, practiced 3 instruments, learned to crochet hyperbolic corals, played an exuberance of tag, learned a ton about anatomy and physiology, played many writing games, fed my body lots of fruits and veggies, read the entire Percy Jackson and Heroes of Olympus series (among many other awesome books), discovered the delightful puzzle game Baba Is You, shared my love of Steven Universe with the school, and spent more time outside playing at the park than ever before in my life. My facilitation comes more easily now that I’ve discovered the embodiment of it. It’s not always smooth and I don’t have all the answers – but I’m much more comfortable with unknown unknowns than my three-years-ago self ever believed I was capable of.
Abby just handed me a letter from my September self (one of our favorite traditions here at ALC-NYC), and in it I said “I intend to share my writing in the world – my works and my art – because I am inspired by these humans and the work I’m privileged to do with them – their chaos and humor and joy.” The thing I’m proudest of this year is achieving that goal: I’ve published 22 blog posts this year! They’re all listed below – the long and the short alike. Thinking about my next-three-years self, I’m looking forward to the ones I haven’t written yet, and I hope that they’ll help other facilitators who are finding their way through this strange journey, practicing and deschooling and collaborating and playing. Happy end of year three, and I’ll see you in the future.
Even started up the Philosophy offering again this week, and oooh boy am I excited about it! (And not just because I get to reintroduce my fav tag to this blog 🙂 )
Hugo, visiting this week, posed this hypothetical: Say you’ve got a boat. And your boat is made of wood. It’s an old boat, and it’s coming apart slowly, but you really love it so as planks fall off of it you replace them with pieces of metal. Eventually, at the end of your journey, every piece of wood on the boat has been replaced by metal. Is it the same boat?
And we were off! I love this question, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot in the last few months in regards to human bodies, and my body specifically. Basically, every cell in your body is replaced every 7 years (okay, actually upon further research this isn’t entirely true; it’s a commonly-held factoid but it’s just an estimate – the cells in your body die and are replaced at different rates depending on what their function is. Some, like the cells that line your stomach, are replaced every few days, while others, like those that make up the lenses of your eye or the neurons in your cerebral cortex remain the same from birth to death. More info) – if this is the case, are we still the same person 10 years later, or are we a new person every decade? Or, is our selfhood not determined by our physiology at all (cell replacement or not) but rather by something more ephemeral – a spirit, or our experiences? If I travel through time and space to the other side of the world and come back with a wealth of new experiences, am I still the same person when I return? If I shave my head and change my name and move to Tibet am I a different person? If I hit my head and get amnesia and learn a new language am I a different person?
I love playing with these questions, and so I proposed we watch Are You a Body with a Mind or a Mind with a Body? I’m a person who is wrestling with my body a lot recently; it feels like a part of my deschooling process to acknowledge that I have a body and that it is a vital part of my self. In my schooling (in most “traditional” schooling) your body is nothing more than a distraction – it’s meant to be kept still so it doesn’t lead you astray from thinking. I was good at school; I was skilled at keeping still. All those unpracticed years have definitely made reorienting myself in my body a harder process. I don’t regret anything, and yet I’m glad to be contemplating these questions in a philosophy class where everyone is free to move around as their body needs to. No matter what an institution might prefer, the reality is that we have bodies; that they are sometimes unruly and often need tending; that without them we couldn’t stop and smell the flowers and hold present in that moment of being. And without that, what’s the point really?
Why are there physics and pumpkins and dumplings and python projects and jump-scare video games and lacrosse balls and sports with complicated rules and games with simple mechanics and rainbow keyboards and expo markers and existential questions and 8-bit philosophy and Cartesian uncertainty and schools where kids must be gently pushed out the door on Friday afternoons because they don’t want to leave and I don’t either which is why I’m still here, writing this blog post instead of going home to nurse the cold burgeoning in my esophagus and lungs, why are there places that feel safe even for strangers, why are some places safe and how do we know they are real if we can’t trust our senses?
Why is there a separation between the Mind and the Body? What do those borderlines feel like – high water marks in the sand of the beach or the time between night and day when it is neither or not or both? What is the difference between the darkness in the squishy part of my head behind my eyes and the darkness of the Nothing beyond space? Why did I stop asking myself these questions and can physics answer them? Can science fiction? What about realistic fiction or fantasy or memoir or first person shooters or 2D adventures or VR explorations or social-deductive games or Solitaire? Descartes believed that the only thing that is verifiably real is doubt because he was the sort of philosopher who mistrusts the body in service of the Mind but I mistrust all Minds that don’t trust their Body because what is computation with no inputs?
There must be Something instead of Nothing because Saylor carved this pumpkin today and my throat hurts and the sun is setting again, west of here.
note: this is part of an ongoing series that I’m writing about the meetings we have at ALC. Check back for more, and I’ll link to them here when they’re written.
Intentions for the Meeting
Check-in and Change-up are the two culture-setting meetings at ALC, and one of the cornerstones of the model. By culture-setting, I mean they are the place where we talk explicitly about what kind of school culture we currently have and how that fits into the vision of the school culture that we want. Check-in and Change-up hold space for us as a community to come together and discuss about what’s working and not working for us, problem-solve how to get everyone’s needs met, and make sure that we’re providing maximum support with minimum interference.
At ALC, we don’t have rules but we do have Agreements, so-called because you agree to them as a condition of being a part of this community. Each child signs a formal Student Agreement at the beginning of each school year, which consists of 6 fundamental, non-negotiable parts: Respect yourself andothers, respect shared materials, participate in meetings, share your learning, clean up after yourself, and respect community agreements.
Check-in and Change-up are the vehicle and structure for forming community agreements, which are intended to clarify and hash out the details on the deliberately abstract Student Agreements. Every year I’ve been at ALC-NYC, we’ve made agreements about food messes and clean-up jobs and not cursing at others and telling an adult before you leave the space; often we’ve discussed hoarding shared materials, caring for friends with nut allergies, and how to make our other meetings go more smoothly. Community agreements are powerful because they are formed by the kids who show up in collaboration with the adults who hold the space. If you don’t agree, you have the power to change them – through these meetings.
I’m referring to Check-in and Change-up together (and sometimes interchangeably) because at ALC-NYC they are inextricably linked, though they are technically two separate meetings. I’ll go into more detail in a moment, but as an overview: Check-in is a mandatory, all-school meeting where we go over the Awarenesses from the week and create an agenda. Then, we adjourn Check-in and anyone who wants to can leave. After, we immediately start Change-up, where those who have opted in stay to work down the agenda in an informal conversational setting, creating new community agreements, tweaking the ones we already have, or coming up with alternative, creative, artistic solutions in response to the awarenesses we discussed in Check-in.
So: they’re distinct but intertwined meetings, with an open and iterative structure, intended to support community members in collaborating to create a school culture that nourishes our mutual sense of safety, dignity, and belonging.
Let’s get into the details.
When It Happens
At ALC-NYC, we do Check-in/Change-up every Friday morning, immediately following morning Spawn. They day is less important than the frequency and consistency: since we have school 5 days a week, once a week feels like a reasonable amount of time to check in on how everyone is doing. I like the rhythm of ending the week in collective reflection and starting next week with something new. Lots of ALCs do it differently – you’ll be able to feel out how frequently your community needs to change things up.
Tools We Use
For this meeting we use something called a Community Mastery Board (or CMB) which is simply a whiteboard divided into several columns: Awareness, Testing, Practicing, Mastered, and Archive.
Unsurprisingly, we use post-it notes to interact with this tool. We also use a second whiteboard for creating the agenda and taking notes on it.
How It Usually Goes at ALC-NYC
Throughout the week, any community member can add an Awareness to the CMB. Awarenesses are observations, things that we notice that are or are not working for us. Sometimes they arise out of conflict: one kid gets mad at another because they’re hoarding Lego and puts up the awareness “hoarding legos isn’t cool.” Sometimes they’re clarifying something we’re already doing: the awareness “people are graffiti-ing on the bathroom stalls.” Sometimes they’re a question for the community: “can we get a hamster?”
Friday, the whole school crowds into the Red Room and starts Check-in. The facilitator (sometimes an ALF, sometimes a kid) pulls a sticky off the CMB and reads it aloud, asks if the writer of the sticky would like to speak more about their awareness, and hands the sticky to the scribe, who puts it on the whiteboard and adds some notes to create the Change-up agenda. Sometimes discussion breaks out about one awareness or another, and the facilitator reminds the group that if you’d like to talk more about this you can come to Change-up, then redirects attention back to the next awareness. When all the awarenesses have been read, we adjourn Check-in and then immediately begin Change-up.
We split the meetings a few years ago because the school had grown to the point where it was more of a drain to get everyone to participate in Change-up than it was productive and supportive to the health of the community. It’s worth noting that the majority of students leave at this point – those who stay are a self-selecting group that we informally refer to as culture-keepers. These are the people who are showing that they’re invested in creating and maintaining a healthy culture at the school. I try and talk less than the kids do because I’ve learned that if I don’t fill the vacuum, they often surprise me with their brilliance. It’s hard to trust kids and it’s also fundamental.
At Change-up we work back down the agenda (using a different color marker to make notes) and decide for each item – was this just an announcement? Should we make a new agreement? Should we do something else (like write a rap about food messes, or create a sign to clarify microwave use, or convene a culture committee to talk to the people involved) instead?
If we decide to make a new agreement, then we try and collaborate together on something everyone in the room is willing to try out for a week. We call this Testing, and all of our new agreements go through this phase. We don’t vote on new agreements. Instead we talk about wording and usage and enforceability until the folks in the room are satisfied that we can try it for a week and see how it goes.
The next week, we’ll announce the testing agreement at Set-the-week on Monday morning so the whole community knows, and then let it flow. The following Friday, we’ll ask in Check-in how everyone felt about it – thumbs up if we should keep it, thumbs down to rework it. If we get a clear yes, we’ll add the agreement to Practicing, where it will live with the other agreements we’re actively practicing as a community (and maybe one day all the way to Mastered, which is where we put agreements that we’re practicing without even having to think about!). If there’s ambivalence, we’ll add the testing agreement back to the Change-up agenda to talk about again.
The iterative nature of creating agreements is intentional and fundamental. In practical terms, it streamlines the meetings because it eliminates the need to speculate on every “what-if” situation when creating an agreement – if we add a new testing agreement, and something unforeseen comes up while we’re testing it, then we can easily adjust and test something else. More abstractly, it’s aligned with our philosophical roots: “learning happens in cycles of intention, action, reflection, and sharing.” The meeting often feels both focused and informal, and our notes reflect it – they’re messy, full of doodles, written in shorthand and inside jokes. Change-up is a powerful weekly that reminds us we are in community with each other, and trying to care for one another as best we can.
Once we finish going through all the agenda items, we adjourn Change-up and we’re done (for this week)!
I’m often asked what the difference is between ALCs and Sudbury/democratic free schools, and the way we go about creating community agreements is certainly one of the primary differences. My understanding is that at those other schools, rule-making is often done by a body (like a Judiciary Committee) that requires mandatory service from all the students on a rotating basis, rules are voted into effect by a majority, and rules created in that setting carry over from school-year to school-year. All of this is also intended to give kids a chance to practice the democratic process.
At ALC, Check-in is attended by everyone in the school and done quickly, while only the students who care to attend Change-up to brainstorm solutions – as I often remind kids, decisions are made by those who show up. We don’t vote. Instead, we look for solutions that will satisfy everyone in the room enough to cross the threshold are you willing to try this for a week and see how it goes? They’re deliberately nonherirarchical – in Change-up particularly, we don’t raise our hands to be called on by a presiding officer but speak informally with one another. There is a facilitator to keep everyone focused, but that facilitator doesn’t have to be an adult. The agenda is created out of our shared intentions for the week, which are added to a whiteboard that everyone has access to at all times in the space. The process is iterative, the agreements fluid. At the end of the year, we clear out all of the agreements that we’ve created, trusting that if the need arises, we’ll re-create them next year (or iterate something better, or find a way to support each other informally so we don’t need to create a formal agreement, or…).
Sometimes people asks me how this could possibly work and I offer this analogy: you’re going out to dinner with your friends, and trying to decide which restaurant to go to. I’m gluten free, so we can’t eat Italian, but you’re vegan, so no sushi, and another friend doesn’t want to travel far because they’re exhausted and we need a place that’s wheelchair accessible and… we account for all those things. We choose an accessible taco place that’s nearby our tired friends’ house where I can have corn tortillas and you can have soy tacos and everyone gets to eat together, which is the thing we really wanted. Check-in and Change-up are tools for making explicit what happens implicitly in that decision-making process. They’re tools for taking care of each other.
Which leads me to my final note: probably your Check-in and Change-up won’t look like the one I’ve just described and that’s great. How frequently you meet, where, which tools you use, the specific language about agreements and awarenesses, the timing of the meeting, who facilitates it, how you take notes – all of these things (and more!) are changeable. It is only ever my intention to tell you what we practice because it works for us, and to invite you to change up what needs changing up so that these meetings work for you too.
This is a list of tag games that I like! We play a lot of tag, and these varieties keep it interesting. The descriptions under each are as close to word-for-word how I explain them to new players. [Notes in brackets are my reflections on the game conditions.] We often play many rounds of tag in a row. All of these games can (should!) be modified to meet the needs of the players. The ideal tag game is really intense and leaves everyone breathless, bone tired, and full of endorphins.
Banana Slug Tag
Everyone is It. If I tag you, you are frozen until I get tagged. When you are frozen, you must t-pose until I am tagged so that other players know you’re frozen. If we tag each other at the same time, or if there is any dispute, then we play rock-paper-scissors and the loser is frozen. You win by freezing all the other players. Go!
[This is a hard game to win! It’s best played in a space where it’s easy to see all the other players – open fields, small playgrounds, a gym. The minimum number of players is 4, but the more players you have the more fun it is.]
Hide and Seek Tag
One person is It, everyone else hides. Once you get tagged by the person who is It, you also become It. You don’t have to stay in your hiding spot – you can move around as much as you want. The last person tagged gets to choose who is It for the next round.
[You can play with 3 or more people, but this is also much more fun with more humans. Obviously, you’ll want to play this game somewhere players will have lots of places to hide…]
One person is It. When you get tagged, you are frozen and you have to kneel down on one knee (now you are a toilet). To unfreeze you, an free player must run over, sit on your knee, and “flush” one of your arms. You win by turning everyone into a toilet.
[This game works in a lot of different settings! Be careful of your knees, grownups…]
One person is It and everyone else is running – to avoid getting tagged, players can hug for up to 5 seconds (they should count down from 5 out loud). If you are hugging, then you are safe and cannot be tagged. If It tags you, then you are It.
[This is an infinite tag, and great to play with a group who is practicing trust-building with each other…]
There are two bases, on two different sides of the room or field or playground. One person is the Shark – they’re It. They stand in the center. Everyone else starts on the base on one side, and must all run over to the other base. If you get tagged on the way across, you also become a Shark. Last player standing wins.
[We play endless varieties of this one. Sometimes, the Shark has to tag the other players by throwing a gator ball at them. Sometimes, we add other bases, or institute a time limit on how long you can linger on base. I like playing this game in a place where there are a lot of obstacles, like a playground. I also played this in a pool as a kid…]
Two people hold hands and they are the Blob. They are It, and if they tag you then you will hold one of their hands and also join the Blob. The last player standing wins.
[This is best played in a smaller space with fewer obstacles, which makes it progressively easier for the Blob to trap free players.]
Monster and Sausage Tag
One person is the Monster – they are It and they are chasing a Sausage. Everyone else lays on the ground in groups of 2 – they are a Sausage Pack. The Monster chases the Sausage until the Sausage lays down a joins a Sausage Pack. Then the Monster becomes a Sausage, and the person on the other side of the pack gets up and becomes the Monster.
The really important part about this tag is the screaming. The Sausage must sound adequately terrified (no one wants to get eaten by a Monster!!) and the Monster must sound appropriately terrifying (or else what kind of Monster are they??). If the Monster tags the Sausage, the roles are reversed.
[Monster and Sausage tag is an infinite tag, and best played somewhere you don’t mind laying down on the ground. Obviously, don’t play this game somewhere where you will subject people to your screaming who did not consent to it. Also, this game is hilarious. Play when you need a good belly laugh.]
A couple months ago I posted about School of the Alternative – a self-directed art camp for grownups that I applied to go play at. This week, I went and came back again. I’m still processing, and there’s a post that I’m dreaming up about slime and soma and distributed networks and non-hierarchical education for all (or maybe a book I’m writing, or a notpoem, or a big ole’ installation…) but I’m not ready to write it today. Today I’m writing about reentry. It’s been hard, and I see three reasons for it.
One is that I’m simply tired – I ran my body to the ground because I wanted to get the most [waking hours] out of the 6 days that I was playing with the brilliant humans who came together at SotA. Your human body is made of meatstuff and it needs sleep and water and good food and regular schedules to feel good. Fine. I live with these choices.
The second is that I feel a real loss of the intimacy of the community of SotA – the shared vocabulary that mushroomed up among us after days of Clump and slime and sharing and falling and late nights and early mornings and workshares and meals and being present with one another and our bodies. I miss my friends and the liminal space we created staying up until 2 in the morning making stickers, or walking through the woods in the pouring rain to go scream into the void. I’m unbelievably grateful to have had the opportunity to be there, to make obscene amounts of slime, to commune with other weirdos, to yell about my soma, to hold and be held by the brilliant, creative, generative artists who are collaborating there and carrying on the legacy of Black Mountain College. The depth of my grief is a testament to how powerful the spacemaking at SotA is. I’m grateful for this grief.
The third reason that re-entry has been hard is that, for as much as ALC-land is aligned in principal with SotA, there is a massive difference between being an adult communitying with other adults, and being an adult who is responsible for the safety of children. This is the bit I’m working out here, today.
Part of my intention behind going to SotA was to experience being facilitated, to be a participant in a space that I was not actively coherence holding. A coherence holder, as I’m using it, is the person who makes the thing happen – who makes sure everyone’s dietary restrictions are accounted for and there is enough to eat, or that the right doors are unlocked, or the tape and scissors are where we need them, or the schedule is hung up, or the translation work is done, or everyone on the email chain is clear which piece of the puzzle they’re holding. In the abstract, as an adult coherence holder for this ALC space, it’s my responsibility to make sure that ALC-NYC is as physically, mentally, and emotionally safe as possible, so that the childpeople of this community are free to play, explore, learn, create, choose, heal, and thrive. It’s a job I don’t take lightly.
I’ve noticed, upon reentry, that we aren’t our usual May selves this year. Usually by this point, the school culture is so strong that safe-space-making is held between the ALFs and the kids easily, lightly. When I think about May, I remember the feelings of twice-a-week field trips and playing with visitors and going to the park every day and finishing all the last-minute magic that comes up. I’m acutely aware, this week, just how much energy I’m expending reminding people not to bring their chase game into the quiet room, or that pushing someone is breaking our “respect yourself and others” agreement, or that you should only have to say “stop rule” once. I’m expending energy on volume management and clean-up logistics. I’m repeating myself. At other points in the year, this is par for the course – in May, it’s frustrating.
The primary difference between this space and any other where I might be working with kids is the amount of agency they have – the degree to which they are empowered to collaborate in our culture. I’m curious how we found ourselves, this May, expecting the adults to hold cleanup, and conflict resolution, and community care. I do this work because I believe in science fiction – I believe that children are brilliant people who have the ability to generate visionary worlds. Looking at the last four (ahh!) weeks of school, I’m wondering how we can aid and abet our best selves, the ones who actively care for one another, rather than do the minimum of harm. I’m thinking about how care is pleasure, and dreaming of ways to share these thoughts that are careful not to use my power-over to impose these beliefs on children.
Not all of these last two days has been frustrating, and I don’t want to overemphasize the parts that have been hard. Some of these frustrations will always be a part of this work – I’ve never been to a self-directed space for kids that isn’t constantly talking about how to make cleanup go more smoothly. The nature of this work [with children] is that children are constantly changing – they ramble through chaos which crashes back through them as they change and that’s growing. The place of difficulty is also the wellspring of magic.
In the last two days I’ve collaborated with children in playing at least 6 varieties of tag in two parks in the rain and the beautiful spring sunshine, singing the Steven Universe theme song really, really loudly, watching ants crawl on our hands, making art messes, hugging a tree, hanging upside down, learning how blood clots, punning around, and discussing the healing power of visionary fiction. I’m dreaming of ways to spend the last weeks of school putting my attention on collaborations like these (what you put your attention on grows!).
I’m deeply grateful to my #SuperALFTeam for making space for me to leave and come back again. I’m grateful to School of the Alternative, for making space for me to come play with their magic. I’m grateful to all the past-three-years Mels who did the work of holding contradiction so I could write this post. I’m grateful for slime, and flocking, and Emergent Strategy, and the lessons of distributed networks that are clamoring all around me. And I’m grateful we’re not done yet.
I was working on this blog post but then we were retelling jokes and redrawing old drawings and talking about your flesh seashells aka your ears and old timey music and queerbaiting and the Titanic and who belongs at Pride and how testosterone humans grow later in life and your address and your identity and get on my level and cat sounds and being a person who shares the world with others and 11 hours of sleep tiredness and the perfect sleep method and taking out the dog and pay-per-google and and and… it’s the day before break and (surprise surprise) focused blogging is not-so-focused today.
I am writing a very nice coherent blog post about tracking my trackers and I will post it here soon but I am putting down the struggle now; my three-years-in facilitator self has learned a lot about going with the flow instead of fighting the momentum. I’m grateful for the ways that the cycle of the year makes space for work and play, makes eddys of silly time and productive labors, of movement and rest. Happy break!
Today, I’m feeling really grateful for Gratitudes – my favorite part of our daily routine here. It’s an optional meeting, every afternoon, but I try to never miss one. It’s been an anxious few weeks for me, but I can always rely on Grats (as I affectionately call it) to be a safe, quiet space (or a silly one, on those magical days when we decide to run an upside down meeting). We use the custom Gameshift board pictured above (featuring secret menu – you have to be here) and take 10 or so minutes to draw a ritual space together. All 4 ALFs usually attend. The kids are more varied – Timo, Iphy, and Hugo are pretty consistent participants and Tamia, Mason, Ash, Aniya and Olive come more occasionally. Even when no kids come, the ALFs hold the space (a rare but not unheard of occurrence). We’ve increased enrollment recently, so there are a lot of bodies in the space, and spring fever has us real energized (though not necessarily eager to go to the park as the early-spring chill continues) and I am a human that is sensitive to noise and others’ energy – when I arrive at Gratitudes after a particularly raucous day, I can literally feel my nervous system relax a bit. That’s because praciticing paying attention to what your grateful for is really good for you – it’s science. Today I’m grateful for water, and the space that is this blog, and a Quick and Easy Guide to They/Them Pronouns, and for my fellow ALFs, and that the magnolia tree on my block is starting to bloom….
When we see love as a combination of trust, commitment, care, respect, knowledge, and responsibility, we can work on developing these qualities or, if they are already a part of who we are, we can learn to extend them to ourselves.
True love is unconditional, but to truly flourish it requires an ongoing commitment to constructive struggle and change.
The question is, what precisely makes something what it is; and what makes it the same thing with the passage of time?
Phenomenal consciousness is about the temporal “depth” of the present moment. The subjective “now” is, paradoxically, extended in time: it is “temporally thick.” We experience it not as an infinitely thin sliver of time but as a moment in which times present, past and future overlap. We travel through life as if in a “time ship,” which “has a prow and stern and room inside for us to move around.”
There is no clear dividing line in the brain between inner imaginings and perceptions of the real, solid “world out there.” Reality and fantasy are built into the same neural circuits.
It takes roughly seven billion billion billion atoms to build a 70kg human being. Adjust this figure according to your weight. The bulk of you (93 percent) is made up of oxygen, carbon and hydrogen, with nitrogen, calcium and phosphorus atoms accounting for most of the remaining 7 percent of your mass. Hydrogen has been around since the Big Bang, but the other elements are spewed out from the fusion factories of dying stars.
Neuropsychology is the study of the relation between brain and mind. We know what the brain is. It’s an organ located in the head. But what is the mind?