I enjoy the moment when something pops up in new material I’m reading or listening to that ties in directly to a topic I’ve just taught. When it occurs, I act like my dog. I become alert and take notice, just like Riley when he senses there might be another half of a dog cookie left in my sweatshirt pocket.
Such just occurred with the concept that the oldest part of our brain is called the “lizard brain.” Sometimes it’s fancied up to being named the reptilian brain, but I prefer lizard.
It’s fun to say lizard brain. But the lizard brain doesn’t like to have fun. In fact, old lizard brain is a pessimistic party-pooper. It automatically perceives an unknown situation as a negative one.
So while that reaction does help protect us in conditions that could truly be dangerous, it’s quite unhelpful in other situations.
Example #1: I’m lost and driving along on a dark road at midnight. There is nothing and no one around me. My cell phone is at home on the charger. My old Subaru’s dashboard suddenly fills with red warning lights as the car’s power cuts off. I pull to the side of the road. After two minutes, I see headlights in my rearview mirror. The car pulls to a stop behind me. The driver does not get out of the car.
Lizard Brain does not calmly say, “Thank goodness. I’ll bet the person who just pulled up is a sweet, little old lady and she’s afraid of who YOU might be. You should get out and walk back to her car.”
Nooo. Lizard Brain is screaming SERIAL KILLER! AX MURDERER! PSYCHO KIDNAPPER! It’s bringing up every scary movie scene it can remember. I’m asking myself if I have anything in the car that can be used as a weapon.
Example #2: I’ve been asked to work with a group of people I don’t know to coordinate a new program. LB does not soothingly say, “Wow…how fortunate for you to be able to meet new people. I’ll just bet they’re a fascinating group who will share a lot of terrific ideas.”
Nope. LB is telling me, “These people resent an outsider coming in. They already hate you. They’re going to sabotage your work. Do you have anything in your bag that can be used as a weapon?”
LB is the driving force behind much of the anxiety some people feel when they’re in the position of speaking before a group.
It’s why you see public speakers holding onto a podium. (That makes it easier to duck down if the audience starts shooting arrows.)
Or it’s why a speaker will stand behind a chair with the seat facing toward to the audience. (So he can raise the chair in a lion tamer type pose to fend them off.)
And it’s why a speaker may display closed body language, arms protecting vital organs, or turning sideways to reduce the square footage of skin displayed as a possible target.
It’s important to recognize LB’s push for us to be afraid when there’s actually nothing to fear. Name it; call it out. “LB, thanks for the offer to help me feel frightened about this, but I’m going to pass. Please go away until I actually need you.”
And if anyone makes fun of you for talking out loud to yourself, just tell them I said it’s OK.
To my readers: Share how you have been able to conquer an unrealistic fear.
