Entangled Brains
I'm sitting on a rooftop humming to half remembered lyrics of a song I heard the other day. I'm actively trying not to remember the long list of to-dos I've made for myself to finish before this year ends.
I look at the passersby walking down the road and I see a couple wearing winter clothes.
The first thing winter reminds me of is penguins. I ask myself what the name of the penguin from the animated movie Happy Feet was.
I remember Lovelace, but he wasn't the main penguin.
I'm then reminded of the fact that Marian Aunty, a grandmotherly figure from our time in Switzerland showed us giraffes in the Basel Zoo. I don't quite remember why they have black tongues, and so I start thinking of the survival advantages black tongues may provide.
The thought doesn't stick too long as I see a bird fly into the tree that's as tall as the rooftop I'm on.
Zap. Humans never evolved to see in the dark, but they made artificial sources of light. Do bats get extremely confused with all the artificial lighting we have at night? Does it affect their vision, and the way they hunt?
I start thinking, but it's not long before I ask myself what material hot air balloons are made of, for a bat crashing into one would be disastrous.
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Our mind works on associations; the more wiring each topic in your mind leads you from one topic to another, the more associations you can make. The lesser the number of steps it takes you to go from say thinking of ladybugs to thinking of how people on Mars would watch Madagascar[1], the more wired your brain is.
And here is where I claim a creative mind is merely a highly entangled brain. If you can hop from one disjoint topic to another by managing to connect dots others can't see, you're creative[2].
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[1] Ladybugs -> stripes -> zebras -> Zoos on Mars -> Madagascar -> Watching Madagascar on Mars.
[2] or random. If you say questions out loud too often, they'll call you very random.
I look at the passersby walking down the road and I see a couple wearing winter clothes.
The first thing winter reminds me of is penguins. I ask myself what the name of the penguin from the animated movie Happy Feet was.
I remember Lovelace, but he wasn't the main penguin.
I'm then reminded of the fact that Marian Aunty, a grandmotherly figure from our time in Switzerland showed us giraffes in the Basel Zoo. I don't quite remember why they have black tongues, and so I start thinking of the survival advantages black tongues may provide.
The thought doesn't stick too long as I see a bird fly into the tree that's as tall as the rooftop I'm on.
Zap. Humans never evolved to see in the dark, but they made artificial sources of light. Do bats get extremely confused with all the artificial lighting we have at night? Does it affect their vision, and the way they hunt?
I start thinking, but it's not long before I ask myself what material hot air balloons are made of, for a bat crashing into one would be disastrous.
-
Our mind works on associations; the more wiring each topic in your mind leads you from one topic to another, the more associations you can make. The lesser the number of steps it takes you to go from say thinking of ladybugs to thinking of how people on Mars would watch Madagascar[1], the more wired your brain is.
And here is where I claim a creative mind is merely a highly entangled brain. If you can hop from one disjoint topic to another by managing to connect dots others can't see, you're creative[2].
-
[1] Ladybugs -> stripes -> zebras -> Zoos on Mars -> Madagascar -> Watching Madagascar on Mars.
[2] or random. If you say questions out loud too often, they'll call you very random.
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