Judgment

“Do not judge so that you will not be judged. For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you.” — (Matthew 7:1-2)

Balance.3040

Judgment: We have judged; we have been judged; we have been warned about judging; we have tried not to judge, yet we go on judging. We continue to judge, because we are unable not to judge. One fundamental aspect of all creatures is that they make evaluations, and this built-in feature is one that we cannot disable or uninstall. We constantly make judgments about the world we encounter, and our lives depend upon these judgments. Being asked to not judge would be akin to asking us not to feel, not to have emotions, not to think … not to feel alive.

Since judgment requires taking a measure, it is intimately related to value. When we judge, we are measuring and assessing value, worthiness, or usefulness. We must make choices to survive; to make choices we need to evaluate, and because these decisions must often be made quickly and efficiently, we depend upon shortcuts. Our feelings are the shortcuts. Feelings provide us with immediate feedback. Individuals, who have lost the connections between their emotional system and their executive functions due to an accident will experience decision paralysis, stress, and grow very agitated when they must make a choice, even a simple one.

If we must judge to live, then why the negative judgment about judgment? The above verse from the book of Matthew seems to hint that the prohibition has something to do with the way you judge. Do we judge others in the way that we want them to judge us? One of the most universal human biases is the attribution bias. This is the tendency when judging others for us to assume their behavior is the result of internal factors, such as their personality, yet assuming our own actions arise because of the necessity of external circumstances. We see others as having character defects and ourselves as victims of circumstance. We are biased, prejudiced, and far from rational beings — we do not judge fairly.

A person’s judgments reflect the essence of their personality and identity, which involves an ongoing dance between their inborn traits and their experiences in life. Because our judgments are so fundamental to us, we often assume that our particular judgments should be just as fundamental to others; but our judgments reflect our unique perspective, and therein lies the problem. Our judgments reflect our valuation, rather than a universal standard. Most of us rarely question the basis of our judgments, though we are quick to question the basis of others’ judgments — when they differ from ours or are directed at us.

When others’ evaluations are similar to our own, they are felt to be right, good, or okay and sometimes universal. However, when others’ evaluations differ from ours, they feel wrong or bad. We enjoy being with others who share our perspective, because the more consensus gathered around a judgment, the truthier it feels to us, and the more justified we feel. This is often the basis for the communities with which we choose to associate. Another person’s evaluation of us can either build us up or tear us down, unite us or divide us. Most of us prefer to be to be with people who build us up, yet in doing so, we often unite through tearing down those who differ from us.

Judgment is here to stay. The challenge will be to own our judgments as a subjective viewpoint. We need more education on how our minds deceive us along with more awareness of our personal biases, prejudices, and values. This will not happen without intentional effort, practice, and feedback from supportive guides. Humanity needs more dialogue, but if we do not understand the subjective nature of our consciousness, then wars, on both the personal and global levels, will continue indefinitely.

“All war is a symptom of man’s failure as a thinking animal.”   — John Steinbeck


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

Out of the One, Many

“from the many to the One; from the diversity so obvious to the senses, to the unity which is the fruit of inward realization: such is the general trend in religious thought.” — Phirozshah Dorabji Mehta, Indian-born writer and lecturer on religious topics

Wlight-split-into-spectrum-by-prismhen we work our way backwards to first principles, we arrive at the One, the ground of our being. This source might be conceived spiritually or scientifically, depending upon whether the nature of this ground is assumed to be subject or object, animate or inanimate. These different metaphysical perspectives divide us and impact the assumptions we make about how life and consciousness may be connected.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

Regardless of unifying first principles, existentially we experience a world of many pieces. Mind functions like a prism and separates the rudimentary singularity into legion.

“The forming of wholes, or categories, is what the brain does best, and the effect is powerful. A real world and a constant self depend on it.”  — Jason W. Brown, M.D,. neurologist

At a fundamental level, creating categories is what mind does. Its organizing process tags the created categories with feelings, leading to a subjective experience where all knowledge is both categorical and emotional. We experience a world split into objects that differ in their value for satisfying our needs. Feelings provide us feedback about the world we perceive and vary in the extent to which our needs are anticipated or met. They are part of a complex system that values what we encounter in terms of its worth or threat.

The precision and complexity of our evaluations can be measured in part by the extensiveness of our categories and the extent to which we can see their dimensional nature. Dimensional thinking allows us to see the metaphorical “gray” between the black and white and points to the unifying connection at the ground of our being. Simple black and white judgments reflect fundamental emotionally based categories, such as good or bad, right or wrong, approach or avoid, fight or flight. These intuitive judgments are often necessary for the quick decisions needed to ensure our survival and to reduce the cognitive load and time required for complex thinking. Often referred to as heuristic techniques, these quick approaches to problem solving are shortcuts which can aid rapid decision making.

While mental shortcuts hard-wired by natural selection are necessary for quick decisions, over-reliance on them at the macro-level (of a complex, inter-connected, and overpopulated world) and micro-level (of a more intimate interpersonal relationships) easily leads to conflict. Even though we have evolved the capacity for more intricate and complex thought it is not instinctive for us. Shifting from reflexive judgments to a more contextual and dimensional approach is demanding and takes intention; however, conflict resolution usually requires it. Accessing this more evolved level of thinking requires expanding our accessible categories and managing the intensity of our emotions.

“In emotional turmoil, the upward influence of subcortical emotional circuits on the higher reaches of the brain are stronger than the top-down controls. Although humans can strengthen and empower the downward controls through emotional education and self-mastery, few can ride the whirlwind of unbridled emotions with great skill.” — Jaak Panksepp, Estonian-born American psychologist, psychobiologist, and neuroscientist

Given that nothing stings like being misjudged, criticized, and rejected and nothing soothes like empathy, understanding, and acceptance, practicing a style of discernment that is rooted in an intricate and more compassionate evaluation seems well advised. Unresolved conflict divides us and often results in feelings of disconnection. If we are connected at a fundamental level, especially if that connection is at the level of our consciousness or essential being, then one would expect feelings of disconnection to be painful and feelings of connection to be pleasurable. Achieving harmony is a process of connecting through discovering and experiencing our unity. All the king’s horses and men were unable to put Humpty Dumpty together again, but could they still see Humpty Dumpty in the pieces?

Brown, J. (2000). Mind and Nature: Essays on Time and Subjectivity. London: Whurr Publishers, p. 7

Mehta, P. (1956). Early Indian Religious Thought. London: Luzac and Co., p. 347

Panksepp, J. (1998). Affective Neuroscience: The Foundations of Human and Animal Emotions. New York: Oxford University Press, Inc., p. 301


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

Hierarchy

We are not born with a “tabula rasa,” rather we arrive pre-wired with a number of emotionally based systems and circuits. Mental circuits do not require previous learning, but they do provide the basis for learning to occur. These instinctual systems begin immediately to interact with our experiences and the context of our lives, so that it becomes very difficult to tease apart nature from nurture. These “emotional operating systems” lurk behind the scenes of our conscious experience both shaping and being shaped by it.

Wolves.dominanceOne such system that emerges in social animals is an instinct for social status which results in dominance hierarchies. Hierarchies evolved to help groups develop a more stable and less conflictual way to regulate access to resources. How these hierarchies are organized vary between and within species. Hierarchies allow for a resolution of conflict that does not lead to serious injury. Game theory and computer stimulation analyses have demonstrated that this “limited war” strategy benefits individual animals as well as the species.

All human societies appear to have hierarchies, ascribed systems tend to be very rigid (e.g., caste, class, or rank-based systems), while achievement-based systems allow for more flexibility (egalitarian systems). They develop everywhere, and blossom even when groups try to mitigate their development. The founding fathers declared their independence from an ascribed hierarchy…

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

 …then developed a system that excluded other races and genders from sharing power.

Our mental circuits lead us to feel status, even when it is not made explicit. We seem to have hard-wired “social status detectors.” Human imaging studies at the National Institute of Mental Health have identified brain circuitry associated with social status. When a person moves up or down the pecking order or merely perceives social superiors or inferiors, distinct brain areas are activated. Feeling inferior activates brain regions associated with emotional pain, while rising in status feels pleasurable and is associated with improved mental and physical health. Rising in status comes with a price; the more we stand to lose, the higher our stress levels…the higher we fly, the further we can fall.

Given that we have inherited a social rank system from our ancestors that natural selection kept around to make our survival more likely, it is unlikely that we could eliminate hierarchies in society. They dwell in our subconscious mind and leak out when we try to eradicate them. As a result, human history is a long-running experiment testing many types of organizations and power structures. These have led to our greatest achievements and our most horrific crimes against humanity. Power feels good, and those with it do not want to lose it; the powerful want more power and will go to great extremes to hold it and increase it.

This inherited pleasure and pain based mental system, that once served to help small family and tribal groups live together harmoniously, now influences the fate of more than seven billion people and every other living organism on the planet. Life is no longer harmonious, and the planet’s homeostasis seems to be out of balance, perhaps it is time to make this implicit mental circuit’s role more explicit. The human experiment involves adding reason to our emotional nature, hopefully we can discover a way to sustainably and compassionately organize ourselves for the good of all life on Earth.

Experience hath shewn, that even under the best forms of government those entrusted with power have, in time, and by slow operations, perverted it into tyranny.

— Thomas Jefferson


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

Two Worlds

Rodin-The-ThinkerI seem to live in two worlds. One that might be called my “inner world” consists of my private thoughts, emotions, images, and sensations. The other which appears to me as an “outer world” is a shared world that consists of other beings (those who seem to possess an inner world) and objects (things that do not seem to possess an inner world). These two worlds make up my universe; nothing else exists…for me.

The interplay between these two worlds is complex. Much of what could be said to exist in my outer world, exists only in my inner world. For example, I have never been to Africa, so I have never experienced it in my outer world, I have never touched it, seen it, heard it, tasted it, or smelled it. The continent of Africa is an outer world shared by over one billion people that for me, exists only in my inner world through second hand experiences.

neo-wakes-upMy office, where I sit now, exists in my outer and inner world. My inner world, ostensibly fed by the “actual” outer world through my senses, makes my office appear to me as a part of my outer world. It seems real, but how do I know for certain what is real? The philosophical position of solipsism holds that the “outer world” cannot be known. Extreme forms of solipsism deny any outer world, which includes all the other inner worlds. The plot of the science fiction film “The Matrix,” plays with the concept that the outer world is constructed by the mind. The Matrix, a designed outer world, is a complex computer program which humans directly interface with through ports connected to their brains. The humans in the Matrix experience an outer world that does not really exist “out there.”

Chaplin.mirrorDebates about the nature of the outer world are not only happening in philosophy and science fiction, but increasingly in the scientific community. Thinking about the “realness” of my outer world can twist my mind in a Gordian Knot if I am not careful. Yet, I must also take heed of the other extreme, namely over-belief in the outer world. Questioning the outer worlds’ existence generally comes from an intellectual position, not an experiential one. Experientially, the outer world feels certain. Much of my inner world does too. I tend to believe my thoughts and interpretations. Certainty feels good, and these feelings are often necessary for survival — doubting the realness of the world is not a trait that will likely contribute to many descendants.

We crave certainty in both of our worlds; so much that we fight for it when someone challenges our sense of it. While we like suspense, surprise, and mystery, we do not like to sit with these feelings indefinitely. We ultimately want resolution; we want certainty. This can drive us in positive ways to understand our experience, and to use that understanding to improve our existence. But, this craving for certainty has the potential to destroy us. We see evidence of this in political, religious and other interpersonal clashes. What happens when two sides both feel certain of incompatible positions? Certainty can block mutual understanding, empathy, giving others the benefit of the doubt, or meeting in the middle. These are essential diplomatic and interpersonal relationship skills.

I am trying to learn how to question my own certainty, and to live a life that can embrace uncertainty. The scientific method, an approach based on confirming or disconfirming hypotheses based on empirical evidence, may be the closest that we can get to certainty in a subjective world. It provides a structured way to dialogue and find consensus about our shared outer world. Yet, consensus is still lacking, even science is subject to biases and current paradigms. Humans are naturally stubborn and resistant to evidence that works against their beliefs, even when it might provide a better explanation.

population-2014There are over seven billion people in our consensual outer world, each possessing a different inner world; each providing a unique perspective on the outer world; each potentially at odds with many of the others; each feels their “truth” deeply, craves understanding, and desires some sense of connection. The interplay of these many worlds might not be survivable, but if we are going to make it, then we must learn how to live together between the inner and outer worlds. Science alone is not enough, we must also find ways to understand, abide, and share our bewildering inner worlds.

“I like the scientific spirit—the holding off, the being sure but not too sure, the willingness to surrender ideas when the evidence is against them: this is ultimately fine—it always keeps the way beyond open—always gives life, thought, affection, the whole man, a chance to try over again after a mistake—after a wrong guess.”

Walt Whitman


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

Impending Doom

RiverThe game begins when we are tossed into the river of life. Unable to swim on our own, we begin totally reliant on others. These guardians provide the raft, and help structure our experience. The rafts vary in their capability to match the demands of the river. Some can move to smoother waters, while others never stray far from peril. Every alternative shapes our experience, pleasure and pain directing our path as we seek more of one and less of the other. Pain echoes the roar of what inextricably draws the river’s current. Is it perilous or is it benign? That roar, which reminds us that life on the river is fragile, is an existential given in our lives, and in all the life that has gone before us — impending doom.

The word impending has its origin in the Latin word “impendēre” which means to hang over, to be imminent. Doom has several contemporary meanings, including unavoidable bad fortune, ruin or death, an unfavorable judgment, decision or sentence. AlfredTheGreatYet, the etymology of doom is from an Anglo-Saxon word, “dom,” that means judgment or law. As an aside, it turns out, my 35th great-grandfather, King Alfred The Great (848-901 C.E.), compiled a dom-boc (doom book or law code) which attempted to blend the Mosaic code with Christian principles and three pre-existing Saxon codes. Winston Churchill credited the Laws of Alfred, which were continually amplified by his successors, as the basis for what grew into that body of common law, which has guided and constrained much of the world.

Games are built around rules, and the game of life is no exception. Rules of all sorts hang over us in life. Human laws, natural laws, and a myriad of rules connected to our personal and commercial interactions in the world, foremost are those we feel from within. Like King Alfred, we each create a personal dom-boc. This “creation” is an implicit process, generally happening outside our awareness, and built upon a foundation developed in our earliest years of childhood. Emotional interaction with our dom-boc is a fundamental activity of our minds. We live in fear of breaking the rules, being found out, judged, sentenced…doomed, whether by God, nature, or our fellow human — no wonder fear, anxiety, and worry play such a central role in living. While commonalities abound, we each have a unique dom-boc. We each construe the rules of the game and feel something slightly different hanging over us. While we tend to judge others based on our personal rules, since no one plays the same game or has the same rule book, we should consider caution in these evaluations.

There are many ways to play this game, so each of us faces our own version of impending doom. Each mind, to one degree or another, scans for what is deemed a meaningful threat, danger, or judgment — our flavor of impending doom. Impending doom is an inner experience, its meaning and consequences are constructed by the mind, and this perception frames our experience and sets limits on our actions and even our thoughts. We cannot cheat the game, but not all the rules are as rigid as we might suppose. Sometimes it makes sense to question authority, especially when that authority commands from our subconscious. Paying attention to the rules that guide our lives can be very revealing. When we shift our rules, the game changes. We each have to play our own game, which involves determining our purpose, our set of rules, and managing our experience of impending doom. How that balance is achieved, is the essence of the game.

“I am willing to take life as a game of chess in which the first rules are not open to discussion. No one asks why the knight is allowed his eccentric hop, why the castle may only go straight and the bishop obliquely. These things are to be accepted, and with these rules the game must be played: it is foolish to complain of them.”

W. Somerset Maugham


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

The Simulation Chamber

Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard.
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.
William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Inside the DFS (Dynamic Flight Simulator)A simulation is an attempt to replicate a real-world situation in order to gain insight for training, designing, modeling, or researching. They are often used when the real-world process cannot be encountered directly due to threatening conditions, inaccessibility, lack of appropriate resources, or in many other situations where to do so is impossible or unacceptable. Simulation is something the human mind does quite well —sometimes too well.

On September 12, 1962, President Kennedy delivered his “We choose to go to the moon” speech to persuade the American people to support NASA’s effort to fly a manned mission to the moon. Only a creature capable of great imagination would even consider this endeavor and only one with the ability to simulate could pull it off. On the third mission to put a man on the surface of the moon (Apollo 13), the survival of the pilots, following an explosion in space, can be attributed in large part to the ground crew’s ability to simulate and find solutions to the problApollo-13-gary-siniseems the flight crew was facing. The 1995 movie, Apollo 13, depicts the grounded crew member, Ken Mattingly (played by Gary Sinise), working diligently in a Lunar Module simulator to solve the problem of how to do a space-based power up of the Command Module that would avoid shorting out the electrical systems. The “successful failure” of Apollo 13 was described by some as NASA’s finest hour, and it was a clear example of the power of the mind’s ability to simulate.

Looking through a natural selection lens, we can appreciate how ancestors, who had a greater ability to simulate, and thus, anticipate a lethal threat or engage complex social relationships, would leave more offspring than their counterparts. In a dangerous woTiger-in-the-grassrld, it is better to make a Type I error, thinking the rustling grass is a predator when it isn’t (false positive), than the Type II error, thinking there is not a predator when there is one (false negative). Too much simulation, however, and our ancestors might never have left their caves. There was a place for the “cowards” and the “valiant” in our history, and both have passed on their genes.

Mental simulations are an essential component of being a social species. The ability to anticipate others’ reactions helps to guide our behavior. In contemporary society, our simulating minds often become carried away with “what if” simulations. “What if-ing” is a popular activity of the wandering mind. Balance is called for because mental simulations pull our emotions along with them, giving us jolts of anxiety, fear, anger, jealousy and a host of other negative and/or positive emotions. Most of us have already died “many times”  in our effort to avoid Type I errors. The worrying mind is not aided by the massive amounts of risk assessment information now instantly available to warn us of the dangers that we face in every area of our lives. Perhaps the biggest challenge is the extent to which we become so immersed in our simulations that we forget that we are even running a simulation. This leads to believing the results of these simulations as if they were prophecies. Swept up in our dark imaginings, life becomes almost uninhabitable.

Ironically, much of our suffering springs from our efforts to resist difficulty, pain, and even death. Shakespeare’s Caesar seems to advise less resistance and a more accepting frame of mind. This involves spending more time being with “what is” and that means looking “at” our simulations rather than looking “from” them.  More clearly seeing mental simulations for what they really are, means spending a lot less time suffering and dying.


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

Politics And Religion

Over the holidays I made a decision to loosen my tongue in reaction to a comment that ran counter to my political sensibilities. This conversation went awry, as these types of conversations often do, and I later regretted engaging the topic. I had a number of negative internal reactions including feeling judgmental, angry, misunderstood, defensive, hurt, and sad. I am fairly sure that the person I was speaking with had a similar set of reactions. Most of us have heard the adage that reminds us to avoid such topics as they can lead to conflict; however, people handle conflict in different ways and have different comfort levels with it. Some have ongoing outward and/or buried conflict, some avoid or withdraw from conflict, while others successfully work through conflict. Core differences between people easily lead to conflict, and how they are handled can have a strong impact on how close people feel to one another. Neither the conflict, nor the avoidance and disconnection feel good. I have often wished it was easier to engage with and communicate about these heartfelt issues in a way that did not feel bad. I believe that understanding subjectivity and engaging in dialogue diminish conflict and lead to greater empathy, though it is not easy. I, like most people, continue to be fooled by my perceptions that I am right and others are wrong.

After my initial feelings about my failed dialogue started to fade, and I was able to reflect with a “cooler head,” I recalled a summary of Jonathan Haidt’s book, The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided By Politics And Religion. This helped shift my thinking away from what we were arguing “about” towards what we were arguing “for” — a subtle shift that had a big impact. I was motivated to read Haidt’s book in order to better understand why it is so difficult for people to appreciate the viewpoints of their rivals.

Man is not a rational animal, he is a rationalizing animal.
— Robert A. Heinlein

cart_before_the_horse1Haidt argues that our rational explanations do not drive our moral judgments. Rather, they are post hoc fictions which make sense of our intuitions and help persuade others to join our “team.” (See also Pretty Good Stories and “Dark” Awareness). These “intuitive ethics” are built upon several innate psychological systems.

One of the most basic and oldest (from an evolutionary perspective) of these psychological systems stems from the revulsion reaction of disgust. (See also Contempt). While this emotion initially served to protect us from disease and contamination, over time it was elicited by others’ behavior — an early inkling of moral judgment. As mammals, we form tight bonds with our children, an instinct which has expanded beyond the family unit allowing for a capacity to feel empathy for all living things. The ability to form bonds allowed us to be social, and we developed the ability to form groups and coalitions. These coalitions usually involved some form of hierarchical organization where some group members would use their influence to take on leadership and others would defer to this leadership and/or power. Groups would develop rules and customs built around reciprocal altruism to maintain order and fairness. However to maintain stability they needed to deal with threats to their group’s integrity. One threat is from “freeloaders” who take advantage of the benefits of the group without contributing themselves. Another type of threat is from dominating or oppressive leaders. The process of natural selection has hardwired all of these systems into our subconscious minds which subsequently drive our emotions and our intuitive ethics.

Haidt and his colleagues focused their study on six moral foundations which, like moral taste receptors, flavor our judgments. Having a language for these foundations helps to clarify many of the cross-cultural, religious, and political differences that so often confuse us. Cultures implicitly construct their values, their representative stories, and their institutions upon these foundations. The six foundations, along with their targeted threat and basic value, are:

  1. Care/harm — cherishing and protecting others
  2. Fairness/cheating — justice according to shared rules
  3. Liberty/oppression — fighting tyranny
  4. Loyalty/betrayal — being true to your in-group
  5. Authority/subversion — respect for legitimate authority
  6. Sanctity/degradation — purity or abhorrence for disgusting things

Just as different foods draw upon different flavor combinations, different cultures have their unique “recipes.” This can easily be seen in political or religious cultures. Often two opposing cultures rely on the same foundation but with a different emphasis (e.g. pro-life individuals emphasize the sanctity of human life, while environmentalist emphasize the sanctity of the earth; different populist groups fight the tyranny of corporations or the tyranny of the government). Or they might emphasize a different foundation for different issues (e.g., conservatives might draw upon the sanctity foundation when fighting for the life of the unborn but draw upon the authority foundation or fairness foundation when fighting for enforcement of the death penalty). The in-group for each “culture” can also range widely — from the universal to much closer to home. Different in-groups and different foundations can lead to very different attitudes and sometimes very confusing and seemingly inconsistent behavior.

As in my “discussion,” much of the time we speak past one another because we see the other person’s position as wrong or immoral, and we feel compelled to convince them that ours is the best or more moral perspective. This is dangerous territory for a relationship — a slippery slope that leads to contempt. I still disagree with many positions that differ from my own; I still feel my perspective is better, but I understand, that like everyone else, I am hard-wired to have a “righteous mind.” I feel my beliefs and do not intuitively share my opponent’s beliefs — the feelings that back up their views are outside of my awareness. My rational mind can sometimes let me know when my “righteous mind” is acting up. The language of moral foundations is a great tool in this regard; it has helped to shift my perspective so I see more clearly what each of us is fighting for. This opens the door for empathy in a similar way that seeing the need behind an action can. As a species cursed to confuse our subjective perspective as objective, we need all the help we can get.

Haidt, J. (2012) The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided By Politics And Religion. New York: Pantheon. See the book’s website: RighteousMind.com


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

Beyond the campfire

Beyond the campfireThere is a boundary within which we feel safe and which beyond lurk the threats to our sense of security. Like a dog with an invisible fence, we are notified of this boundary by our emotions such as anxiety, fear and perhaps anger, but also feelings of excitement, interest and curiosity. The “comfort zone” varies tremendously from person to person. Some individuals feel comfortable wandering or even leaving the globe engaging in activities that would make the faint-hearted shudder. Others find it threatening to leave their bedroom — panic-bound with almost every move they make. How we manage this boundary is a crucial determinant of our lives.

This boundary is like the space between the warmth and safety of the campfire and the menacing dangers beyond its glow. We may prefer to cling closely to the intoxicating comfort and security the fire provides, but this draws the boundary even closer. If we never leave the campfire, we may find a life crowded with anxiety. Fear is a hardwired emotion that is activated to help us escape threat. We may find it extremely difficult to leave what feels secure when we feel afraid.  But fear will not just go away if we try to wait it out, there is no way for it to be permanently exiled — threat, danger and risk will always be “out there” somewhere.  The question is how close is the boundary? We can minimize fear’s influence over us, but this only happens “beyond the campfire.” We must be willing to leave the place where we feel safe in order to expand the territory where we will feel safe. To “move beyond” requires motivation, and to find this we will need to switch emotional states.

Wolf-Eyes04Anger is one possible option. Like fear, anger is a hardwired emotion, however unlike fear, which motivates us to escape threat, anger activates us to engage threat. It is also elicited when we feel our freedom has become too restrained, when we feel our safety zone has become claustrophobic or endangered. Even a rabbit will fight a predator when backed into a corner.  Anger motivates us to move out of safety and into risk. Anger enables us to drive the lurking danger farther away from the campfire.

There are also positive reasons to move beyond the campfire and into the riskiness of the boundary. Safety and security may be desirable, but there are some pleasurable feelings that cannot be found near the campfire. Many forms of entertainment involve some element of risk. Increased feelings of aliveness, novelty and excitement often arise only when the stakes are raised.

Leaving our comfort zone feels risky but pushing into the unknown is the only way to stretch our boundary and expand the territory where we can freely roam. It may also be the only way to connect to the full complement of human emotions and feel truly alive.


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

Status

58949722 / State Opening of ParliamentFrom the schoolyards to the networking events to the red carpet, it is intuitively felt. As a social species, humans are highly attuned to social status; one might say that we have a built in “status detector.” Natural selection has rewarded individuals having higher status with better access to mates and food and subsequently more offspring, along with other benefits that improve quality of life. Research suggests that our brain chemistry and subsequently our emotions, mood and behavior are heavily impacted by our position in the social hierarchy.

“Serotonin levels are not innate and inflexible. They are themselves the product of social status. The higher your self-esteem and social rank relative to those around you, the higher your serotonin level is…. There is little doubt that the monkey’s mood is set by its high serotonin levels. If you artificially reverse the pecking order so the monkey is now a subordinate, not only does its serotonin drop, but its behavior changes, too. Moreover, much the same seems to happen in human beings.” — Matt Ridley

Lance Armstrong Tour De FranceHumans ascribe status in many different ways, but these typically come through two basic pathways: gained through achievement or assigned in some way based on aspects such as sex, age or physical characteristics or through background such as lance-armstrongone’s ethnic group or family. Societies can differ on which types of status they emphasize and how rigid the boundaries are between the layers. Status systems create a hierarchy within society that provides those at the top more power and privilege. One might say that these entrenched ways of assigning status create a strong current that can make it difficult and at times impossible to contravene. Within these systems, there are frequently crosscurrents, when various categories of status intersect (for example, women high in social status before women’s suffrage). And, just as status can be gained or assigned, it can be lost or forfeited.

The concept of fraternization occurs when someone within a given status system engages in social relations with people from a different strata as though they were siblings, personal friends or lovers. The resulting impact of these systems is to effect inequality, which leads many institutions and societies to enforce strong prohibitions against fraternizing. This flows from the recognition that intimate relationships work best between peers. Unequal power can distort romantic relationships and create conditions of imbalance that may lead to unresolvable conflict. So, although it is based on a perceived place in the hierarchy, it has dramatic results and impacts our emotions, mood, even physiology and behavior, which one can clearly see in the conduct of winners (arms and chest held aloft) and losers (shoulders and head lowered). Feelings of contempt towards others reflect a perceived higher status, while feelings of resentment reflect perceived lower status. Those above judge and criticize, while those below defend. Aggression comes from a place of power, while passive-aggressive or terroristic behaviors spring from perceived lower status.

Status emerges in human relationships from deep within our subconscious minds, often catching us unaware. It is often reified in institutions and in society as a whole, even considered to be imbued by nature or divinity. Resistance to this idea has been germinating for years challenging nature’s push and society’s hold. There is growing concern about the levels of inequality in the distribution of wealth and resources. We almost universally find it humorous when the pompous are brought down, and some say this is the essence of much of our humor. We are also keenly aware of hypocrisy, especially of those in places of power and prestige. If we notice this force in our lives, and notice that it is based on perception, then we can more consciously consider what role we want it to actually play in our lives and relationships. Significant healing can be achieved when the lowly are lifted up and the playing field starts to level. Given our propensity towards ascribing status, perhaps with greater consciousness, healthier systems of status might emerge which draw out the best in us rather than our baser instincts.

“Human beings are a species splendid in their array of moral equipment, tragic in their propensity to misuse it, and pathetic in their constitutional ignorance of the misuse.” — Robert Wright


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

Contempt

“Nothing living should ever be treated with contempt. Whatever it is that lives, a man, a tree, or a bird, should be touched gently, because the time is short. Civilization is another word for respect for life.” — Elizabeth Goudge

Four horsemen

Relationship researcher, John Gottman, has identified four maladaptive emotional reactions that are so toxic for relationships that he has used an end times metaphor from the Book of Revelation to describe them. Gottman’s four horsemen (criticism, defensiveness, contempt, stonewalling) often occur in a negative cascade between partners and represent increasingly severe complementary adverse behavior. While each of these behaviors is destructive, Gottman’s research has identified contempt as the single greatest predictor of divorce. Contempt often becomes mutual and this generally foretells the end times of the relationship, or at a minimum, years of misery.

Robert Solomon, a philosophy professor at the University of Texas, distinguished the three emotions, resentment, anger and contempt from one another based on whether the object of the emotion was deemed to be of higher, equal or lower status. When you have contempt toward another, you are judging the other as beneath consideration, worthless, or deserving scorn, which simultaneously places you in the superior position of a judge. Interestingly, judges preside “over” and sit “above” the courtroom, and violation or disrespect of the court proceedings can lead to a charge of contempt.

The emotion of contempt combines the primary emotions of anger and disgust; thus, one might say that the person feeling contempt, likely feels threatened by someone for whom they feel revulsion. One can see the insidious, damaging impact this emotion has on a relationship; contempt is a cold, condemnation of being an object of disgust, which communicates to the condemned that they should remove themselves from the presence of their superior. This is precisely what happens.

When contempt transpires within couples and families the impact is particularly devastating. To be judged as disgusting by those from whom you most crave acceptance cuts the deepest wounds where we are most vulnerable.  Tragically, children will inevitably align with their parents’ opinion and feel self-contempt, which can lead to a lifetime of highly critical internal dialogue. The devaluing impact of contempt is so painful that many will try to fight off its sting through defensiveness, withdrawal or by developing an impenetrable emotional barrier.

The emotion of disgust, which is part of the contempt formula, evolved to protect us from disease and became part of our behavioral immune system. As it started being applied to people, usually those who carried disease, it became a more established part of our emotional repertoire and was applied to foreigners or nonconformists. In today’s interconnected world we find ourselves drowning in a sea of contempt. Contempt is modeled daily by our leaders, leaders-to-be and the pundits who analyze them. Society’s disadvantaged feel it the most.

We fall into contempt far too easily, and it seems that we have lost sight of its calamitous repercussions. If only we could maintain a sense of shared humanity and keep the playing field level; then we might be able to experience our anger and upset without having to degrade the other person’s dignity. This takes humility, a natural antidote to contempt. Humility is aided through recognition of our subjectivity and drawing upon compassion, both of which will require some reprogramming of our natural tendencies. Our eyes point outwards and we mistake our perceptions for objective truth. Perhaps, we could come off our high horse and remember that there is always more to the other than what we experience.

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying looking at the surface of the ocean itself, except that when you finally see what goes on underwater, you realize that you’ve been missing the whole point of the ocean. Staying on the surface all the time is like going to the circus and staring at the outside of the tent.”
― Dave Barry


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

 

Special Collections

Special CollectionLike a museum, each one of us collects, preserves, studies, exhibits and tries to stimulate appreciation for our life experience “relics.” Many are approved for the general public, others only for specific audiences, however each of us has a “special collection.” This collection stays protected and deeply hidden; it is not placed on public display, except in acts of betrayal by another. A person makes themselves extremely vulnerable when they open this vault to another person which is why it is closely guarded. This is where we store our secrets, deep hurts, trauma and shame. When shared, this buried history must be handled delicately, and only by another person who is deeply trusted — mishandling can incite significant relational stress.

Ironically, in some aspects, our special collections are discernible. These experiences have shaped us in profound ways — not all of which are conscious to us. When accessed we are transported to the emotional encounter that led us to hide it away in the first place. This may take the form of a memory, a flashback or just the associated emotion stripped of any cognitive connection to our personal history. In their concealment, they can have a “sealed in,” preserved quality to them that covertly influence our lives and interactions with others. We see them but may not recognize them in our reactions to triggering stimuli, due to how integrated our protective schemes are in our personality structures.

Activating triggers often occur in our intimate relationships. These individuals with their increased security clearances, unbeknownst to our conscious mind, may accidentally find themselves in our vault behaving like the proverbial “bull in a china shop.” Our self-protective instincts are immediately initiated to either shut the vault or to attack the trespasser. The more frequently this occurs the more trust is damaged and subsequently the need to maintain heightened security is reinforced. The trespasser often does not realize their misstep until the moment they trip the alarm and find themselves under attack or shut off. This reaction will frequently mobilize their own security system, leading to counter-attack or their own escape tactics. This is a common negative feedback loop for a relationship.

These encounters are inevitable; as much as we try to prevent them, they may be the only way to get to know our own special collections. The challenge is to shift out of subconscious self-protection and into conscious self-exploration. Having a compassionate and curious partner willing to co-investigate is important to this process. When we have such a partner, it is possible to carefully unpack and unseal these “artifacts” and expose them to the light of the present day.


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

I need, therefore I am

Our life existsyinYang in death’s shadow. Investment in life is our resistance to the pull of death, but survival has its requisites and so to live is to have needs. Unfulfilled needs have a cost — potentially life itself. To have needs is to feel alive and to be vulnerable. Vulnerability inspires a drive to seek out or to protect; in this way vulnerability is the foundation of emotion. Emotion literally means “to set in motion,” “to stir” or “to disturb.” This is the function of our emotionally organized “executive operating systems” (EOSs)*; they each activate us to manage our vulnerability, our needs and life itself.

Our needs percolate through us to stimulate feelings, thoughts and impulses to action. Needs begin upon life’s arrival and our strategies to meet these needs develop in response to the circumstances confronting us.  This personal disposition we try so actively to define and make sense of reflects the melding of what we have brought into the world with what we face during our life’s journey. Like a river carving a canyon, life shapes our personality.

Personality is a significant determinant of what draws us towards one and repels us from another. The pull of approach or push of avoid is felt in response to the process others engage in to satisfy their needs; we measure how that might facilitate or interfere with our own efforts. Difficulties with others are not because they have needs but in response to the path they take to assuage their needs. We are capable of having empathy for the needs of others because we too understand and experience need. Connecting around this insight might help lead us away from conflict and towards awareness and dialogue.

CaptainPhillipsIn the movie Captain Phillips, we are introduced to a Somali pirate named Muse (played by Barkhad Abdi), who with a small crew hijacks an American cargo ship and takes Captain Phillips (played by Tom Hanks) hostage. In this character’s introduction we see the context in which Muse must try to meet his needs. While we may denounce his actions, we can have empathy for satisfying needs in such difficult circumstances. Empathy also opens us up to see how his actions occur within a larger global framework that makes judgment more complicated. In the midst of violent conflict, seeing needs, accessing empathy and gaining awareness of the complex interrelationships between people and the larger systems in which they are embedded is our only hope of seeking peace in war’s shadow. This is as true at the micro level as it is on the macro level.

Our ability to see through behavior to the needs and vulnerability from which it springs helps to engage our capacity for empathy. Each of us is born vulnerable and in our struggle to live we are drawn to what meets our needs in our particular circumstance. Our unique story is embedded in a larger whole and seeing another’s need, as well as their strategy for meeting the need, allows us to see their story. These are the stories of life’s dance with death.

*see Who’s Driving Now, River Running or Trial By Combat


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

Throw or Show?

We have a love-hate relationship with judgment. People universally dislike being judged, yet, seem to take pleasure from judging others. We cannot stop being judgmental — nor would we want to. Emotions, which guide our life, reflect our judgments. Without judgment life itself would not have survived. Evolving from the most basic approach / avoid survival response of a simple organism, emotions help us negotiate the Goldilocks zone of life.  At a core level, an organism must maintain itself within certain parameters and out of this our values are born.  Life necessitates decisions, and decisions involve judgment.

Relationally, our natural draw towards judgment leads to a form of communication that is debate-oriented. Springing forth from the natural sense that our perspective is the true one and our reflexive tendency to judge one another, debate naturally ensues. Each trying to convince the other of the truth that each sees so clearly. Neither really listening to the other, except to find weakness or opportunities to gain the upper-hand. The goal is to win, to be right and to have one’s truth validated.

Debate can be a game like dodge ball, with each side trying to hit the other without beingThrowingRocks hben-stiller-dodgeballit themselves. Each focused on evading and maneuvering and striking a winning blow. Debate can also become a fight, with each side trying to injure or perhaps destroy the other. The stakes become much higher, our words become weapons, like rocks being hurled at one another. The more emotional charge behind the words, the more severe the damage, like force behind a projectile.

There is an alternative. What if rather than throwing our rocks at one another, we show them? A geologist showing you a rock brings out a very different emotional response than a fighter wielding the rocks-1same rock. While curiosity might have killed the cat, it leads to a much less lethal communication style than debate. Curiosity engenders dialogue and mutual interest in understanding the other. Curiosity tempers our natural move towards judgment, and rather than already knowing the truth, it opens us to discover the truth. It reminds us that we don’t really know it all.

We are locked in a subjective reality that only feels objective. Dialogue is a form of communication that mirrors this understanding.  If we are not careful, our self-protective emotional intensity will push us towards judgment, debate and possibly war. Diplomacy demands that we slow down and cultivate curiosity. Nurturing curiosity, nurtures dialogue which will nurture your relationship.


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

 

 

 

Trial By Combat

A trial by combat, deciding a man’s guilt or innocence in the eyes of the gods by having two other men hack each other to pieces. Tells you something about the gods. ― Tyrion Lannister

TrialbyCombat

In the popular book and HBO television series, Game of Thrones, the character Tyrion Lannister, who has been accused of a capital offense, elects to have his fate decided by means of a trial by combat rather than by a council of lords.  Being a dwarf, who has little chance to overpower a much larger and more accomplished opponent, he chooses to be represented by a champion who will fight in his stead. Tyrion is in a vulnerable position and is desperate for a protector who is willing to fight to the death on his behalf.

I have discussed in recent posts the concept of executive operating systems (EOSs) that “drive” our body and brain in different directions, depending on the subconscious perception of the situation we are facing. When any particular EOS is active, our emotions, thoughts and motivations align in service of its evolved function (e.g., protection, nurturing). Since we are wired to survive our systems rapidly respond to any perceived threat. The same systems that orient us towards withdrawal or attack in response to mortal danger are likewise invoked in the face of relatively benign modern-day threats such as being cut off in traffic, being given poor service in a restaurant or in the midst of a family argument over household chores.

Couples counselors regularly witness trial by combat in their offices when romantic partners, who at times have loving feelings towards one another, suddenly bring forth their champions to defend their positions. Feeling emotionally vulnerable or wounded can elicit all manner of protectors to emerge. The defensive strategies employed by individuals in a relationship may vary, but when the partners interact under stress it is inevitably their preferred guardian EOS that is interacting. While not always a fight to the death, these encounters can leave both parties bruised, broken and even more sensitized to the next perceived slight, which triggers another cycle. The renowned relationship researcher, John Gottman, refers to this cycle as “negative affect reciprocity.” The ability to minimize these battles, escape from them once they have begun and repair the resultant damage is often the key to the relationship surviving.

Our instinct to survive is exactly what is triggered by our loved ones. Unfortunately, that instinct leads to an inhibition of empathy and sets us on a self-protective path rather than on a relationship-protective path. Orienting towards the relationship is counter-intuitive to our selected champion, as it involves exposing our vulnerability rather than shielding it. Healing a relationship caught up in negative affect reciprocity requires an environment that reduces the stress and reactivity so that the alternatives beyond fight or flight can emerge.

Relational battles are often heated (or chilled) debates between two individuals who desperately want to be seen, validated and cared for by the other. Feeling diminished, unappreciated or unloved can feel so threatening that any damage being inflicted in one’s own defense is deemed justifiable. One can be deeply wounded from active or passive defensive strategies. The interplay of fight or flight is inextricably tied together. This dance, which we so often find ourselves attending, cannot be won — it is a dance after all, and dancing is difficult when you are suited in armor.


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

 

 

River Running

Upper Gauley SwimmingMy closest brush with death occurred when I fell out of a raft in a Class V rapid on the Upper Gauley River in West Virginia (conveniently captured by the rafting company’s photographer). The pre-trip orientation had advised me to float with my feet pointed downstream should I find my self outside the raft. Unfortunately, once in the water, despite wearing a life jacket and buoyant wetsuit, I was unable to determine which way was up, let alone downstream. Eventually, the raging Gauley coughed me up only to quickly inhale me back under. Fortunately, the second time I arrived at the surface, I was immediately pulled into the raft, which provided me the welcomed opportunity to reunite my lungs with air. This experience demonstrated to me, a water lover, the menacing power of moving water.

I have a lifetime of experience playing in pools, creeks, rivers, ponds, lakes and the ocean. Much of this play has involved interacting with a current of moving water — whether body surfing or drift diving in the ocean, whitewater rafting, canoeing or swimming in rivers or just playing with sticks in a creek. The pleasure comes from moving with the current, whereas, the experience of moving against the current usually feels like work and definitely involves some technique.  I have a scar on my right knee from a fall I took during a seventh grade canoe trip, while trying to walk back upstream to repeat the fun of floating through a relatively mild rapid.

The experience of moving downstream with the current or upstream against the current can vary dramatically depending on the amount and force of the flowing water. In some cases, a river’s current is barely detectable, and moving upstream is almost as effortless as moving downstream. But in others, as in my Upper Gauley experience, you are at the mercy of the river, and moving upstream is not an option.

In Who’s Driving Now?, I discussed the relationship between our limbic system and neocortex. I introduced the concept of emotionally organized “executive operating systems” (EOSs). Briefly, researchers have identified seven to nine EOSs that activate us to deal with the challenges and opportunities humans have faced throughout their evolutionary history. Each EOS can be seen as an encompassing brain state that involves feelings, thoughts and motivations which are experienced on a continuum of intensity. As an example, the feelings in the “RAGE” EOS might range from frustration to indignation; thoughts might be organized around blame, contempt or memories of past wrongs; and motivation might be oriented to the urge to punish or hurt. The theory behind EOSs suggests that our brains are principally organized by emotions, which can exert a powerful current impacting all aspects of our experience.

Just as rivers ramble or rumble according to the quantity of water, gravity and the terrain, the flow of our emotional current can be mellow or dramatic depending upon the “gravity” and “terrain” of the situation we are encountering. Our human form of consciousness allows for the experience of internal conflict between our intentions and our feelings. The ability to see the big picture and create long range plans and goals is a function of the frontal lobes of the cerebral cortex. The power of this executive brain region to guide our actions depends primarily on whether it is attempting to move with or against the emotional current of our “limbic river” and with the intensity of the current.

Like it or not, we are all river runners. We must negotiate whitewater, cross currents, tributaries and obstacles. Our feelings flow — gently or forcefully moving us downstream. At times, we must shift our position in the river or reorient ourselves to take a different line. This may involve bursts of moving upstream or some clever rudder work, either of which will depend on the current state of our “limbic river” and our past experience running our river.

We may be floating on Tao, but there is nothing wrong with steering. If Tao is like a river, it is certainly good to know where the rocks are. ― Deng Ming-Dao


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.

 

 

Who’s Driving Now?

crazy-taxi-driverImagine you are traveling in a mysterious taxi where the cabby transforms into another driver. Everything suddenly seems to be different since there is a new person in charge, the driving style changes: the destination changes, as does the mood, music selection and the conversation. This unusual scenario is not too disparate from our day-to-day lives. As our emotions vacillate, a new “driver” takes charge and everything in our experience changes. Our emotional shifts can range from subtle to dramatic, and once made we experience different thoughts, feelings and motivations. We may find that we have a different outlook on life and access to different memories or perhaps an alternative interpretation of memories. In spite of these transformations, we feel like the same person. Our perception of continuity between drivers is provided by our observational self, the passenger in the back seat. This passenger has always been there, through it all — our deepest and most steadfast sense of self.

salmonSince the limbic (emotional) brain evolved earlier than our neocortex (executive) brain [see The New Arrival], its preexisting controls over the body were built into the wiring of the newer system. The limbic systems’ influence is thus expanded, not replaced. While the neocortex can have an impact on the limbic system, this influence runs upstream like a spawning salmon and must fight the more powerful emotional current. The more intense the emotional experience, the stronger the current our “neocortex’s salmon messengers” must struggle against. The neocortex evolved to serve the organism, which includes the limbic system and other bodily systems. By providing increased flexibility and adaptability to new environments, this executive system allowed humans to colonize the globe and even escape our terrestrial orbit. Yet, to the chagrin of our executive sense of control, these pre-existing systems did not evolve to serve the neocortex and, as a result, our minds are primarily organized around emotional states. As our emotional states shift, so will our mental life and behavior.

Jaak Panksepp, Ph.D. is a researcher in the field of affective neuroscience. His work focuses on understanding how various emotional processes are evolutionarily organized in the brain. He also explores the linkages of these processes to psychiatric disorders and drug addiction. Dr. Panksepp mapped the neural circuitry of seven mood states, which he refers to as “executive operating systems” (EOSs). So named because when active, these “drivers” take control and impact our emotions, perceptual biases, memories, and behavioral inclinations. These EOSs evolved to deal with crucial challenges our evolutionary ancestors faced in dealing with basic functioning, survival and procreation, as well as necessary social behavior. Judith Toronchuck and George Ellis added two more EOSs to Panksepp’s seven, rounding out the list to nine primary emotional systems: SEEKING, DISGUST [Toronchuck & Ellis addition], RAGE, FEAR, LUST, PANIC (which relates to separation distress), CARE/nurturing, Play and POWER/dominance [Toronchuck & Ellis addition]. Capital letters are used to remind us that these labels refer to the “system” and not just the emotion. The emotions, thoughts and motivations within each system can range in magnitude, for example, the RAGE EOS might involve a spectrum of feelings that extend from mild frustration to intense anger.

Living and dealing with other people leads to interactions between multiple sets of EOSs. These interpersonal encounters can be categorized on a cooperative to conflictual continuum. Social engagements have the potential to shift in dramatic, often unexpected ways, depending on which EOSs are driving and whether challenge or opportunity is perceived. It is our subconscious mind that dispatches the drivers, and this dispatcher is extremely fast and conditioned by experience. When our subconscious mind is triggered, the appropriate driver/EOS is instantly dispatched to deal with the circumstance. So when the emotional current is particularly strong, by the time the neocortex’s messenger has traveled upstream to deliver a potentially contradictory message —  for example, “don’t say it” — the dispatcher has replaced our driver, who has already said it. All the while, our observant passenger quietly notices the dramatic play unfold.

Panksepp, J. (1998). Affective Neuroscience. New York: Oxford University Press.

Toronchuk, J. A., & Ellis, G. F. R. (2012). Affective Neuronal Selection: The Nature of the Primordial Emotion Systems, Frontiers in Psychology.  3(589)


John R. Lucy, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice at Decatur Psychology, LLC.