the great divide

the are two distinct halves of my brain.

i’m not talking left hemisphere/right hemisphere stuff, because the halves are not literal or physical and certainly not equal, though i’m sure hemispheric activity plays into everything in some way.

i’m talking about the emotional side and the intellectual side. my feeling brain (FB) and my thinking brain (TB). unfortunately for me, they rarely see eye to eye.

as the years go by, i find the emotional side has grown exponentially in terms of volume, density and influence. my FB is big and clumsy and boisterous and energetic and powerful and raw. it’s also delicate and vulnerable and slight and quiet and gentle and filled with love. it lives in every cell and connects me to myself.

meanwhile, the intellectual side seems to have lost some metaphoric weight. it’s patient and smart, but it’s passive and cautious. its influence, however accurate its findings or astute its assessments, is more subtle. its presence sometimes fleeting. it knows what’s going on and, on occasion, exactly what to do... but isn’t always consulted or obeyed when my FB is on a mission.

two halves of the same whole, but so very different. and their inability, or unwillingness, to communicate effectively with each other is a problem. frequently, this division of spirit leads to much inner conflict. intellect vs. emotion is a great divide i find challenging to navigate.

where my TB might be able to look at a situation and see it rationally, sensibly, logically and clearly, my FB is like a hyperactive five-year-old after a sugar binge, jumping to conclusions, hunting for cosmic signs, feverishly reading (good and bad) too much into nothing and charging headlong into euphoria or despair.

intellectually, i can understand and accept that A is true. or even probably true. i get it. i see it. i recognize it. i acknowledge it. i know it. but, for whatever reason(s), that which i know intellectually can be something i’m unable to believe or accept emotionally.

instead, emotionally, i’m only able to see B... or C... or D. i dismiss A, no matter how obvious or undeniable it might seem, because B, C, D and the rest feel true and, for me, feeling routinely trumps fact. the pull is stronger, the hold tighter, the concept more pronounced, the belief easier.

so, i embrace my FB and side with it even though, somewhere, my TB is meekly raising its hand to (almost inaudibly) protest what is surely to be a foolish endeavour or thought or action. it tries to shine a flashlight on reality as it is and not how i'm misunderstanding it to be, but it's no match for the blinding spotlight of my FB.

the relationship between my FB and me is also antagonistic, though. my FB can take me soaring just as easily and readily as it can hurl me into depression. it can tell me what i want to hear or, more destructively, what i feel i need to hear. it can seduce me with possibility and then punish me for my flaws. my FB giveth just as quickly as it taketh away. its benefits absolutely outweigh its drawbacks but, as grateful as i am for the wide-open heart and sensitivity my FB affords me, i do sometimes wish my TB would down a protein shake and assume leadership for a spell.

don’t get me wrong. i’m not saying i want to hand over all control to my TB, either – it gets me stuck into just as many jams as my FB, what with its propensity for endless overanalysis and panic-driven paralysis. and my FB, for all its flights of fancy, is the part of me that cultivates hopes and dreams and love. it’s the side of my brain responsible for me taking chances or stepping outside my own limits or just believing without regard for the results. so, i don’t want to lose any of that.

i just wish these two seemingly dissimilar halves could get along, compare notes and come to a reasonable, mutually satisfying conclusion more often. that they would learn to co-exist in harmony and symbiotically so that, in tandem, they might help me nurture a better balanced approach to my life.