Lizard Brain

no...I mean an actual lizard brain

Readers, this was my very first Substack essay back in February—which seems like a long time ago—47 essays ago to be exact. I had about two subscribers. This came to mind today courtesy of a short essay by my friend Ben Kerschberg about a lizard plate. It is a quick and to-the-point essay taking an ordinary daily observation into a thought about my very human brain. Please enjoy.

If you enjoy reading Of a Sober Mind, please subscribe. I’m nearing a personal threshold that I never expected just six months ago. Your small token of subscribing would be greatly appreciated.

And now: Lizard Brain

Yesterday was brush-burning day. It’s a regular occurrence in the Texas Hill Country when you have a little acreage and a significant live oak population. We just had a little ice storm a couple weeks ago, and although no structures were damaged it was heartbreaking to see the devastation of the trees. I had hundreds of limbs down and several entire trees. The work began immediately, sawing and dragging into huge piles for the eventual cutting process of cutting some larger limbs for firewood and burning the rest in a huge open fire pit on the back of the property.

There’s something very primal and satisfying about open burning. Like Tom Hanks in the movie Castaway. “I have made fire!” As my inferno roared and I kept careful watch out for wind changes and on the dogs running around the property; my immediate focus was drawn to a bird and a lizard. A bright red male Cardinal swooped in from the treetops and dove under the brush pile just adjacent to the firepit, danced around underneath for a bit, then took to the sky again. It was as if he was checking out my protocol, and satisfied, he flew off with a wink and a nod. A blessing.

I walked over thirty or forty feet to a topsoil pile that I’m saving for my spring garden planting covered in a blue tarp, edges held down by a few limestone boulders. I lifted one of the stones to rearrange the tarp, and out dashed a good-sized lizard. Lizards are plentiful in Central Texas at any time of the year. This was a fat one, a good 2 inches in diameter and 4-5 inches long. It came out from under the tarp in a panicked state. Equilibrium disturbed, running left and right and in little circles. In a matter of seconds as I stood there calmly watching, the lizard made a beeline for the fire pit. I had just a second’s thought that surely it wouldn’t run into the flame and coals…but that’s exactly what it did. Over the perimeter rocks and directly into hell. It stopped about a foot inside the pit and began thrashing about as it roasted alive. And then it was gone.

In our brains are two small, almond-shaped clusters called the amygdala, otherwise referred to as our “lizard brain” because it is the area of our brains that allow us to respond instinctively and immediately to danger or threat. Our “fight or flight” response. But its more than that. It also creates fear. Here’s how the amygdala creates fear. When the amygdala decides that you are facing a threat, it sends a signal — nerve impulses — to another part of the brain called the hypothalamus. The hypothalamus, in turn, activates the pituitary gland and the pituitary gland activates the adrenal gland. The adrenal gland secretes the hormones — adrenaline, noradrenaline and cortisol — that actually trigger fear and the fight or flight response. All of this happens in fractions of seconds. In some people, that triggering state never turns off.

As I went through treatment for alcoholism many years ago, one of the fascinating parts of my education was learning about the amygdala and how it controlled my decision making around cravings. I feel anxiety. MUST. HAVE. A. DRINK. How many poor decisions were made in my life that were centered around that short-term response mechanism. One of the many ways that Navy Seals talk about their training is that they train and prepare in moments of calm in order to deal with times of chaos. The attempt is to override the amygdala with deeply set responses developed by the frontal lobe…the cerebral cortex.

The Cardinal and the lizard. Metaphors for life. Different perspectives. Different responses. And like my fire pit, the World keeps burning ignorant and uncaring about how we may respond.