Unit 1, Listening 1, My Stroke of Insight
My Stroke of Insight
David Inge, Host:
Good morning. Welcome to the second hour of Focus 580. This is our
morning talk program; my name’s David Inge. . . . In this hour of Focus 580,
we’ll be talking with Jill Bolte Taylor; she is a neuroanatomist. She’s
affiliated with[1] the
Indiana University School of Medicine in Indianapolis. And back in 1996, she
was teaching and doing research at the Harvard Medical School when she had a
stroke, a very serious and severe stroke. On that day, as she writes in her
book My Stroke of Insight, on
that day, she woke up with a sharp pain behind one eye. She tried to get on
with her usual morning activities, but clearly she knew something was very
wrong. She wasn’t sure what. Uh, instead of finding answers or information, she
writes she “met with a growing sense of peace.” She writes that she felt “enfolded
by a blanket of tranquil euphoria[2].”
We should talk a little bit more about the, the structure of the brain, and, and I
think that probably people have an idea in, in their head of what the brain
looks like. And that I think the thing that people think about as being the
brain is in fact the cortex, the cerebral—
Jill Bolte Taylor: Right.
Inge: —cortex, which is that part of the brain that
sets us apart from a lot of other living things and in fact maybe sets us apart
in degree from other mammals[3] as
well. Uh, and maybe also people are used to the idea that it has two halves,
right and left, and that the two halves are different. So, talk a little bit
about that, the structure of the brain at that level, and the two halves, the
right and the left, and what makes them different.
Taylor: Well, they process[4]
information in, in different kinds of ways, um, but of course they’re always
both working all at the same time. So as you look out into the world right now,
whatever your perception is, you,
you have choices. You can look first at the big picture of the room and not
really focus in on any of the details. And the right hemisphere looks at things
for the big picture. It blends the, softens the boundaries between things so that you take in the bigger picture of
the room. Is this a really lovely room? Is this a great room? Um, and you just
have the overall perception. If you’re
at the beach, um, you look out over the, the, um, horizon and you look out over
the water, and, and you, you allow yourself to feel expansive[5], and
that’s the bigger picture of everything. The left hemisphere, then, is going
to—and it’s all in the present moment. The right hemisphere is all about right
here, right now.
And then the left hemisphere is going to take that big
picture and it’s going to start picking out the details. So if you’re at the
beach, now it’s going to start looking at the kinds of clouds, and it’s going
to label them, and it’s going to look at the whitecaps and label them, and it’s
going to look at the kinds of grains in the sand and label them. And everything
now starts working into language and the details that we can then communicate
with, so it’s looking—and, and, and in order to do that, it’s going to compare
things to things that we’ve learned in the past, and it’s going to project
images[6] into
the future.
The right hemisphere thinks the big picture in pictures. The
left hemisphere thinks the details using language, so the two hemispheres work
together constantly for us to have a normal perspective.
And, and on the morning of my hemorrhage[7],
I lost the left hemisphere, which lost my language, it lost my ability to
associate or relate anything to the external
world or to communicate either creating language or understanding other people’s
language. But what I gained was this experience of the present moment and the
expansiveness, so, so they’re, they’re very different ways of perceiving the
world. And most of us, you know, I think we can identify that there are these
two very different parts of ourselves and that we use them together. I just had
the opportunity to lose the detail of the left hemisphere so that I could
really just experience the right hemisphere untethered[8]
to the left hemisphere.
Inge: Our guest in this hour of Focus 580,
Jill Bolte Taylor; she’s a neuroanatomist. And of course, questions are welcome.
Line 1. Hello.
Caller: Hello.
Inge: Yes.
Caller: I find this fascinating. I’m, I’m an experimental psychologist, retired. And,
um, there’s an old, uh, out of the behavioristic tradition, you know, they
believed that consciousness was
intrinsically[9] tied
to language. And it sounds like that that’s out the window now because you
evidently didn’t lose consciousness and, uh, because you—but you did lose your
language. But what I’m interested in, did you lose the concept of future and
past? It sounds like you were living entirely in the present. Is that true or
not?
Inge: All right.
Taylor: Thank you. Yeah. No, that’s a great question.
I did lose my perception of past and future when I had that hemorrhage in the
left hemisphere, and I lost all of the consciousness of the language center. I
lost the portion of my brain that said, “I am an individual. I am Jill Bolte
Taylor. These are all the data connected to me.” These are all the memories
associated with who I had been and when that person went offline, which is the
best way for me to explain it, I lost all of her likes and dislikes, and I didn’t—but
I was still completely conscious. And in the process of recovery, I essentially had to say that woman died that day, and I
was now an infant in a woman’s body. And this new consciousness was going to regain the function of the left hemisphere, but I was not going to regain
being whom I had been before.
So, um, uh, I love your perspective on it. At the, at the
same time I, I see it as, as, just as far as language is concerned, picture
yourself as a, a purely English-speaking person and then you wake up one day
and you’re in the heart of China where nobody speaks any English whatsoever, so
you’re no longer dependent on the language. You’re dependent on having a heightening[10] of
your other experiences, the inflection of voice and facial expression, and, and
you’re, you’re really in the present moment, then, in order to gain information
about what, where, where you’re at and what you have to do. So we do function;
there’s a whole part of us that is non-language, and once that language goes
off, I was still a whole human being, even though I didn’t have my language
center and the rest of my left hemisphere was, was swimming in a pool of blood.
I still had the experience that I was perfect and whole and beautiful just the
way that I was even though I only had part of my, my mind functioning.
[1] be affiliated with: phrase to be closely connected to
[2] euphoria: noun a strong feeling of happiness
[3] mammal: noun any animal that gives birth to live babies, not eggs, and
feeds its young on milk
[4] process: verb to understand and respond to sensory information
[5] expansiveness: noun a great size or amount of space
[6] project images: phrase to send images
[7] hemorrhage: noun a severe loss of blood
[8] untethered: adjective not tied or connected to
[9] intrinsically: adverb being part of the basic or true nature of something
[10] heightening: noun an increase
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