For someone raised on a diet of languages (6) in high school and then further nourished on behavioral (Pavlovian & Skinnerian) psychology in university, the recent advances in neuroscience and epigenetics has led me through some spectacular French doors into a landscape that rivals Versailles. Not a professional landscaper or neuroscientist, I am wowed by the beauty of what I see, by the surprises when I stumble on a new perspective, without understanding the intricate and unimaginable complexity of what went into the creation of all this wonder, our neural system.
My newly acquired academic credentials, if they can be called such, come from webinars, online courses, MOOCs and books. I have become an avid student of everything that sheds light on the complex and often hard to understand behavior of people. Why do people do things that create exactly the consequences they don’t want? Why, when they know what is good and not good for them, do they postpone action that would lead to better health, more joy and more love in their lives?
Life is made up of cycles, and I find myself cycling back to things I had to read in university. The fights between Freudians and Kleinians in mid 20thcentury London seemed of little import at the time. Having been brought up, after WWII, in a pretty harmonious family, with parents who loved each other deeply, how could I relate to childhood abandonment theories, trauma and such? Now I feel drawn back to the readings that meant so little to me, and which I now realize are classics because of what they brought to the surface. That what happens early in children’s life becomes a driving force (for good or bad) in that child’s adult life.
What’s puzzling to me now is why I picked psychology when I knew so little about it, had no self-awareness and knew only two psychologists. These were the father and mother of a classmate of mine in grade school. Her mother was a child therapist and had an office (at home) full of toys, doll houses, lots of dolls. When I first laid eyes on that office I said to myself, that looks like a fun job. I want to be like that. Even though, at 13, I had no idea what psychology and therapy were all about. Her father was an industrial psychologist with an office next door. His office was a typical office with a conference table and lots of binders and folders and books. I think I may have seen it once and never returned as it was boring to a 13 year old. Now 54 years later I am struck by the merger I am finding myself in the middle of: the merger between understanding a child’s early life experience and how these then play out in and out of the office. Everything is, after all connected to everything else, in our bodies, our minds and in the universe.