By Thomas Lewis, M.D., Fari Amini,
M.D. and Richard Lannon, M.D
Reviewed by Ruth Cohn
The poet Baudelaire once wrote that the devil’s finest
trick is convincing the world he doesn’t exist. Implicit
memory has done the same. From A General Theory of Love
Many a time I have been asked by a client, a friend or even
a voice in my own head, “Why do I stay in a relationship
that is chronically agonizing and difficult? Love shouldn’t
be this much work. Why do I choose to stay in something that
makes me feel so terrible? Or how does something that starts
out feeling so good come to feel so bad?”
These weighty and ambitious questions are the subject of A
General Theory of Love by Thomas Lewis, Fari Amini and Richard
Lannon. A graceful weaving together of literature, attachment
theory and neuroscience, the slender volume reads like a poem
or a song.
The book begins with a brief and simple introduction to the
triune brain. “Our culture, ideology and values have
taken us far from acknowledging and honoring, and thus understanding
our natural and evolutionarily designed instincts and impulses.”
In gentle, lilting language the authors thus create a context
in neuroscience and in nature whereby our behavior will make
sense.
The reptilian brain controls basic involuntary bodily and
survival functions like breathing. The “reptilian brain
is the one still functioning in a person who is ‘brain
dead.’“ The other two “brains,” the
limbic and the neocortical, are perhaps more interesting to
psychotherapists. The limbic system, seat of much emotional
activity is of particular significance to the subject of love.
Much of the book is about this system. The neocortex is the
most “advanced” part of the brain, the part that
thinks and analyzes consciously. This part of the brain is
humbled and often impotent in matters of the heart.
From basic neuroscience the authors make a smooth transition
to attachment theory. “With the effulgence of their
new brain, mammals developed the capacity we call limbic resonance—a
symphony of mutual exchange and adaptation whereby two mammals
become attuned to each other’s inner states. It is limbic
resonance that makes looking into the face of another emotionally
responsive creature a multilayered experience…. When
we look into the ocular portals to a limbic brain our vision
goes deep: the sensations multiply, just as two mirrors placed
in opposition create a shimmering ricochet of reflections
whose depths recede into infinity…. When we meet the
gaze of another, two nervous systems achieve a palpable and
intimate apposition…. Relationship is a physiologic
process as real and potent as any pill or surgical procedure.”
This is of course what happens in some form, in the earliest
attachment. Infants and caregivers attune, the brain and body
of the child are regulated by the interactions. Through these
interactions the infant’s brain continues to develop
and grow. “A mother continuously adjusts her infant’s
physiology. One can interrupt a single thread of her influence
and disrupt the corresponding physiologic parameter in her
baby. When the mother is absent, an infant loses all his organizing
channels at once. Like a marionette with its strings cut,
his physiology collapses into a huddled heap of despair.”
In neuroscience terms, these earliest patterns of interaction
form neural pathways: groups of neurons firing together in
a particular way. In attachment or object relations terms,
they form internal representations of self and object interactions.
These are two modes of expressing the same essential concept,
which is not news to us: these early patterns of relationship
make deep and lasting impressions. And the nature of the brain
is to seek out what is known. “Because human beings
remember with neurons, we are disposed to see more of what
we have already seen, hear anew what we have heard most often,
and think what we have always thought.”
This leads to the mysteries of implicit memory and the questions
about love with which we began. Memory of life events, and
learned experience are stored in what is known in neuroscience
as “explicit memory.” Explicit memory is what
we know we know and often remember learning. Many of these
known or harkened memories may be the stuff of psychotherapy.
It may be episodic memory: memory of autobiographical events;
or semantic memory which is learned information. What is defining
about explicit memory, which is centered in the brain’s
temporal area, is that it is remembered consciously.
The part of the brain that consciously remembers, that recalls
experience and remembers learning, is not fully developed
until the age of four or five. This is why most of us remember
few if any experiences from our earliest years. And yet the
infant experiences and learns massive amounts in those first
days and years when the brain is rapidly forming. What we
learned and experienced then, we may not even know we know.
We learn it primarily through the senses and emotions, through
the body, and through patterns of interaction that endure.
Like the perfect waiter, psychotherapist or mother, implicit
memory is seamless. It fulfills its task, performs its magic
with invisible skill. “Implicit memory ensures that
camouflaged learning permeates our lives. Behind the familiar
bright analytic engine of consciousness is a shadow of silent
strength, spinning dazzlingly complicated life into automatic
actions, convictions without intellect, and hunches whose
reasons follow later or not at all. It is this darker system
that guides our choices in love.” The brain seeks the
relational patterns that are familiar and continues to replicate
them. They may be painful or destructive, but the neurons
continue to fire in the familiar way. “The closer a
potential mate matches his prototypes, the more enticed and
entranced he will be—the more he will feel that here
at last with this person, he belongs…. A relationship
that strays from one’s prototype is limbically equivelent
to isolation. Loneliness outweighs most pain. These two facts
collude to produce one of love’s common and initially
baffling quirks: most people will choose misery with a partner
their limbic brain recognizes over the stagnant pleasure of
a “nice” relationship with someone their attachment
mechanisms cannot detect.”
The good news is that the brain is plastic. We can create
new neural pathways and change the patterns in the relationships
we have and even perhaps in those we might seek. This is obvious
to us as psychodynamic psychotherapists who have plugged away
for years working with transference and counter transference.
Making the original implicit experiences conscious, processing
those experience, creating new patterns with cortical participation
and intention are where the hope lies, for transforming old
and dead end patterns. And yet it is heartening a culmination
to the explication of our irrational behavior in love, to
learn that our instinct in psychotherapy is on track.
A General Theory of Love is a sweet little tome, filled with
good science and sound reassurance. It is endearing and it
makes sense. I think it is also a book one can readily recommend
to both clients and non-psychologically savvy friends. It
is a joyful and whimsical read on a subject that most of us
can relate to.
Lewis, Thomas, Lannon, Richard and Amini, Fari, A General
Theory Of Love, New York, Vintage, 2001.
Ruth Cohn, MFT is in private practice in the Rockridge area
of Oakland. She specializes in individual and couple’s
therapy with survivors of childhood trauma, their intimate
partners and families. She is an AASECT Certified Sex Therapist, also certified in EMDR and Sensorimotor Psychotherapy.
© 2003
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