Jonathan Dodd‘s latest column. Guest opinion articles do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication. Ed
We all have an inner voice. I call it that for convenience, because it comes in many forms, unique to each of us somehow or other, the human mind developed out of a whole multitude of parts. I’ve always thought of it as a bit like a sandwich, with all the physical and bodily stuff going on down below, and the upper stuff – the higher brain functions if you like – happening at the top. In between is the part that communicates between the two.
When we’re born, most of this is empty space, and we fill it up gradually as we grow and learn. It’s like crossing the road. First we need enough control over our bodies for us actually to be able to walk across the road, and then we need a method.
A dirty windscreen can blind!
When I was a kid we had public information announcements on the TV, and sometimes short films. We were told to ‘wear something white at night’, and to keep away from water. I remember a particularly frightening exhortation for drivers. ‘REMEMBER!’ it said. ‘A DIRTY WINDSCREEN CAN BLIND!’ As a small child I didn’t realise this was for drivers, and whenever the sun flashed on a car window passing by I would press my hands over my eyes, terrified that it would make me blind.
We also had lots of warnings about crossing the road. We were taught codes about looking left and right and left again, and to follow the Green Cross Code. I did, and I survived. Phew!
Having a thought, like Pooh
The thing is, I’ve been crossing roads for decades now, and I never even think about it. I’ve learned how to cross the road so well that it’s become unconscious. That’s the part that’s in the sandwich filling. I can be walking along talking with someone, or having a thought, like Pooh, and there’s an automatic system that gets me across the road safely without me even noticing. My unconscious mind only breaks in when something unexpected happens that requires a decision.
I think this is quite brilliant. Wouldn’t it be terrible if this didn’t happen? Every time we went out we’d have to learn all over again how to cross the road, and we would be overwhelmed by the fear and danger. Life would be far more precarious.
It’s not always good behaviour
Of course, me being me, I’ve been thinking about this, and I’ve come up with an idea. All these systems and automatic bits of behaviour just happen. Most of us aren’t even aware of their existence. Nobody tells us about it, and there’s no curriculum to follow like at school. And it’s not always good behaviour. We might learn something faulty, like becoming scared of spiders, or we might develop ideas or thoughts that aren’t actually good for us, like worrying too much about what other people might think.
I’ve come to believe that it’s important to be aware of what’s going on in there, and to listen to the inner voice, because we don’t have to stick with it. After all, we set it up, even if we don’t remember or never knew it was happening. And there’s no reason why we shouldn’t change the script.
I never get ill
So. As part of my ongoing commitment to surviving and living well, I decided to see what would happen if I started telling myself different things. One of these was that ‘I never get ill’.
I’ve been saying this to myself for years now, and it’s worked very well. I’ve improved the odds, by eating reasonably well and getting some regular exercise. I’ve also reasoned that if my inner voice can get me safely over a road, it can also do some work on my inner health. So I’ve added more instructions. I want to know when there’s a possible infection afoot.
Repel all boarders immediately
We all know when we’re ill because we feel terrible. But before we feel terrible we feel less well than usual, and this usually comes in the form of some symptoms. I’ve explained to my inner voice that I want to know whenever anything bad appears to be brewing.
I’ve also given instructions that my immune systems should be finely tuned and ready to repel all boarders immediately they’re detected. If the government thinks it’s important enough to maintain a system to prevent attacks on our country, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t do the same.
I also boosted the chances of this working by telling everyone that I never get ill. They scoff, of course, and I have sat smugly at work while they all fall by the wayside, getting coughs and colds and flu and all sorts, while I serenely go to work every day without being infected. And it’s worked really well for some years now.
Cotton wool and rubbery stuff
Until this Christmas. I have been laid low for about two weeks with the most horrible cold. It’s filled my head with cotton wool and rubbery stuff, my chest has been full of some kind of soup, I’ve coughed and blown my nose endlessly and felt so bad I’ve even taken pills. I spent one whole day lying in bed not even reading. It’s been awful.
So what happened to my brilliant internal systems? Am I going to decide they failed and give it all up? Am I going to catch every bug that’s going round from now on? No way! There’s work to be done! I need to review and beef up the whole thing so it never happens again.
I did miss a lot of Christmas though. How was it? I hope yours was wonderful despite the weather. I hope the bug that got me passed you by, and I wish you (and myself) a happy and bug-free New Year.
At least I can still say I haven’t had a day off work for years.
If you have been, thank you for reading this.
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