#inner-speech

#inner-speech

You know that sinking feeling when you realize you've been using a phrase that makes you sound less intelligent than you actually are? I had one of those moments a few years back during a pitch meeting for my startup. I was presenting to potential investors, and I kept saying "I think" before every point I made. "I think our user acquisition strategy will work."

Ever notice how the loudest person in the room often gets credited as the smartest? We've been conditioned to equate intelligence with quick comebacks, perfect grades, and the ability to dominate every conversation. But here's what psychology tells us: true intelligence often operates in the background. It shows up in the way you question things, how you process emotions, and even in those moments when you feel like you don't know enough.

Metaphors are linked to how we experience the world around us, according to seminal work by researchers George Lakoff and Mark Johnson. In English, we "move forward" with our lives and don't "retreat into" the past. We speak about people who are "cold as ice" and "heavy" matters we need to resolve. Some of these metaphorical expressions are more than just, well, expressions-they are actually based on our sensory experiences. This mind-body link is called "embodied cognition."

In my previous post, I summarized my response to Christian de Weerd, who denied that a Darwinian approach to consciousness is even possible. I argued that consciousness science has unnecessarily insulated itself from the evolutionary tools that revolutionized our understanding of every other biological phenomenon, and that treating human consciousness as the paradigm case distorts our picture of consciousness as a natural phenomenon spanning millions of species across millions of years.

For most of my life, I thought of myself as a fixed entity: This is me. These are my traits. This is who I am. I assumed I was essentially that same person who loved sugary cereal at age 8, fried chicken at 12, and tequila at 21, and who still loves those things now, even if my stomach disagrees. But this is an illusion. Neuroscience, physics, and Buddhism all agree: There is nothing fixed about us-not even close.

Rumination activates the default mode network (DMN) - the brain's self-referential processing system. This is the neural circuitry that fires when you're thinking about yourself in relation to others: your identity, your social standing, your mistakes. It's the brain asking, over and over, What does this say about me?

Neuroscientists have a name for the brain network that fires up when you're not focused on an external task: the default mode network, or DMN. It's the constellation of regions - the medial prefrontal cortex, posterior cingulate cortex, and angular gyrus among them - that hums to life when you daydream, reflect on yourself, or think about other people's mental states.

What was I thinking? This is not as easy or straightforward a question as I would have thought. As soon as you try to record and categorise the contents of your consciousness the sense impressions, feelings, words, images, daydreams, mind-wanderings, ruminations, deliberations, observations, opinions, intuitions and occasional insights you encounter far more questions than answers, and more than a few surprises.

Take the sur­prise some have expressed in recent years upon find­ing out that the expres­sion to "pic­ture" some­thing in one's head isn't just a fig­ure of speech. You mean that peo­ple "pic­tur­ing an apple," say, haven't been just think­ing about an apple, but actu­al­ly see­ing one in their heads? The inabil­i­ty to do that has a name: aphan­ta­sia, from the Greek word phan­ta­sia, "image," and prefix - a, "with­out."