No matter where you look you will find that every fact in Nature
is relatively cause and effect according to the point of view.
Thus, if a railroad engine backs into a train of cars it transmits
a certain amount of motion to the first car. This imparted motion
is again passed on to the next car, and so on. The motion of the
first car is, on the one hand, the effect of the impact of the
engine, and is, on the other hand, the "cause" of the motion of the
second car. And, in general, what is an "effect" in the first car
becomes a "cause" when looked at in relation to the second, and
what is an "effect" in the second becomes a "cause" in relation to
the third. So that even the materialist will agree that "cause" and
"effect" are relative terms in dealing with any series of facts in
Nature.
A man may be either a spiritualist, believing that the mind is a
manifestation of the super-soul, or he may be a materialist, and in
either case he may at the same time and with perfect consistency
believe, as a practical scientist, that the mind is a "cause" and
has bodily action as its "effect."
Naturally this point of view offers no difficulties whatever to
the spiritualist. He already looks upon the mind or soul as the
"originating cause" of everything.
But the materialist, too, may in accordance with his speculative
theory continue to insist that brain-action is the
"originating cause" of mental life; yet if the facts show that
certain thoughts are invariably followed by certain bodily
activities, the materialist may without violence to his theories
agree to the great practical value of treating these thoughts as
immediate causes, no matter what the history of creation may
have been.
Whatever the brand of your materialism or your religious belief,
you can join us in accepting this practical-science point of view
as a common platform upon which to approach our second fundamental
proposition, that "all bodily activity is caused, controlled and
directed by the mind."
Ignoring all religious and metaphysical questions, we have, then, to ask ourselves merely:
Can the mind be relied upon to bring about or stop or in any
manner influence bodily action? And if it can, what is the extent
of the mind's influence?
In answering these questions we shall follow the method of the
practical scientist, whose method is invariably the same whatever
the problem he is investigating.
This method involves two steps: first, the collection and
classification of facts; second, the deduction from those facts of
general principles.
The scientist first gathers together the greatest possible array
of experiential facts and classifies these facts into
sequences—that is to say, he gathers together as many
instances as he can find in which one given fact follows directly
upon the happening of another given fact.
Having done this, he next formulates in broad general terms the
common principle that he finds embodied in these many similar
sequences.
Such a formula, if there are facts enough to establish it, is
what is known as a scientific law. Its value to the world lies in
this, that whenever the given fact shall again occur our knowledge
of the scientific law will enable us to predict with certainty just
what events will follow the occurrence of that fact.
First, then, let us marshal our facts tending to prove that
bodily activities are caused by the mind.
The first and most conspicuous evidential fact is voluntary
bodily action; that is to say, bodily action resulting from the
exercise of the conscious will.
If you will a bodily movement and that movement immediately
follows, you are certainly justified in concluding that your mind
has caused the bodily movement. Every conscious, voluntary movement
that you make, and you are making thousands of them every hour, is
a distinct example of mind activity causing bodily action. In fact,
the very will to make any bodily movement is itself nothing more
nor less than a mental state.
The will to do a thing is simply the belief, the conviction,
that the appropriate bodily movement is about to occur. The
whole scientific world is agreed on this.
For example, in order to bend your forefinger do you first think
it over, then deliberately put forth some special form of energy?
Not at all: The very thought of bending the finger, if unhindered
by conflicting ideas, is enough to bend it.
Note this general law: The idea of any bodily action
tends to produce the action.
This conception of thought as impellent—that is to say, as
impelling bodily activity—is of absolutely fundamental
importance. The following simple experiments will illustrate its
working.
Ask a number of persons to think successively of the letters
"B," "O," and "Q." They are not to pronounce the letters, but
simply to think hard about the sound of each letter.
Now, as they think of these letters, one after the other, watch
closely and you will see their lips move in readiness to pronounce
them. There may be some whose lip-movements you will be unable to
detect. If so, it will be because your eye is not quick enough or
keen enough to follow them in every case.
Have a friend blindfold you and then stand behind you with his
hands on your shoulders. While in this position ask him to
concentrate his mind upon some object in another part of the house.
Yield yourself to the slightest pressure of his hands or arms and
you will soon come to the object of which he has been thinking. If
he is unfamiliar with the impelling energy of thought, he will
charge the result to mind-reading.
The same law is illustrated by a familiar catch. Ask a friend to
define the word "spiral." He will find it difficult to express the
meaning in words. And nine persons out of ten while groping for
appropriate words will unconsciously describe a spiral in the air
with the forefinger.
Swing a locket in front of you, holding the end of the chain
with both hands. You will soon see that it will swing in harmony
with your thoughts. If you think of a circle, it will swing around
in a circle. If you think of the movement of a pendulum, the locket
will swing back and forth.
These experiments not only illustrate the impelling energy of
thought and its power to induce bodily action, but they indicate
also that the bodily effects of mental action are not limited to
bodily movements that are conscious and voluntary.
The fact is, every mental state whether you consider it
as involving an act of the will or not, is followed some kind of
bodily effect, and every bodily action is preceded by some distinct
kind of mental activity. From the practical science point of view
every thought causes its particular bodily effects.
This is true of simple sensations. It is true of impulses, ideas
and emotions. It is true of pleasures and pains. It is true of
conscious mental activity. It is true of unconscious mental
activity. It is true of the whole range of mental life.
Since the mental conditions that produce bodily effects are not
limited to those mental conditions in which there is a conscious
exercise of the will, it follows that the bodily effects
produced by mental action are not limited to movements of what are
known as the voluntary muscles.
On the contrary, they include changes and movements in all of
the so-called involuntary muscles, and in every kind of bodily
structure. They include changes and movements in every part of the
physical organism, from changes in the action of heart, lungs,
stomach, liver and other viscera, to changes in the secretions of
glands and in the caliber of the tiniest blood-vessels. A few
instances such as are familiar to the introspective experience of
everyone will illustrate the scope of the mind's control over the
body.
Emotion always causes numerous and intense bodily effects.
Furious anger may cause frowning brows, grinding teeth, contracted
jaws, clenched fists, panting breath, growling cries, bright
redness of the face or sudden paleness. None of these effects is
voluntary; we may not even be conscious of them.
Fright may produce a wild beating of the heart, a death-like
pallor, a gasping motion of the lips, an uncovering or protruding
of the eye-balls, a sudden rigidity of the body as if "rooted" to
the spot.
Grief may cause profuse secretion of tears, swollen, reddened
face, red eyes and other familiar symptoms.
Shame may cause that sudden dilation of the capillary
blood-vessels of the face known as "blushing."
The sight of others laughing or yawning makes us laugh or yawn.
The sound of one man coughing will become epidemic in an audience.
The thought of a sizzling porter-house steak with mushrooms, baked
potatoes and rich gravy makes the mouth of a hungry man
"water."
Suppose I show you a lemon cut in half and tell you with a wry
face and puckered mouth that I am going to suck the juice of this
exceedingly sour lemon. As you merely read these lines you may
observe that the glands in your mouth have begun to secrete saliva.
There is a story of a man who wagered with a friend that he could
stop a band that was playing in front of his office. He got three
lemons and gave half of a lemon to each of a number of street
urchins. He then had these boys walk round and round the band,
sucking the lemons and making puckered faces at the musicians. That
soon ended the music.
A distinguished German scientist, named Pavlov, has recently
demonstrated in a series of experiments with dogs that the sight of
the plate that ordinarily bears their food, or the sight of the
chair upon which the plate ordinarily stands, or even the sight of
the person who commonly brings the plate, may cause the saliva to
flow from their salivary glands just as effectively as the food
itself would do if placed in their mouths.
There was a time, and that not long ago, when the contact of
food with the lining of the stomach was supposed to be the
immediate cause of the secretion of the digestive fluids. Yet
recent observation of the interior of the stomach through an
incision in the body, has shown that just as soon as the food is
tasted in the mouth, a purely mental process, the stomach
begins to well forth those fluids that are suitable for
digestion.
The press recently contained an account of a motorcycle race in
Newark, New Jersey. The scene was a great bowl-shaped motor-drome.
In the midst of cheering thousands, when riding at the blinding
speed of ninety-two miles an hour, the motorcycle of one of the
contestants went wrong. It climbed the twenty-eight-foot incline,
hurled its rider to instant death and crashed into the packed
grandstand. Before the whirling mass of steel was halted by a
deep-set iron pillar four men lay dead and twenty-two others
unconscious and severely injured. Then the twisted engine of death
rebounded from the post and rolled down the saucer-rim of the
track.
Around the circular path, his speed scarcely less than that of
his ill-fated rival, knowing nothing of the tragedy, hearing
nothing of the screams of warning from the crowd, came another
racer. The frightened throng saw the coming of a second tragedy.
The sound that came from the crowd was a low moaning, a sighing,
impotent, unconscious prayer of the thousands for the mercy that
could not come. The second motorcycle struck the wreck, leaped into
the air, and the body of its rider shot fifty feet over the
handlebars and fell at the bottom of the track unconscious. Two
hours later he was dead.
What was the effect of this dreadful spectacle upon the
onlookers? Confusion, cries of fright and panic, while throughout
the grandstand women fainted and lay here and there unconscious.
Many were afflicted with nausea. With others the muscles of speech
contracted convulsively, knees gave way, hearts "stopped beating."
Observe that these were wholly the effects of mental action,
effects of sight and sound sensations.
Why multiply instances? All that you need to do to be satisfied
that the mind is directly responsible for any and every kind of
bodily activity is to examine your own experiences and those of
your friends. They will afford you innumerable illustrations.
You will find that not only is your body constantly doing things
because your mind wills that it should do them, but that your body
is incessantly doing things simply because they are the expression
of a passing thought.
The law that Every idea tends to express itself in some form
of bodily activity, is one of the most obviously demonstrable
principles of human life.
Bear in mind that this is but another way of expressing the
second of our first two fundamental principles of mental
efficiency, and that we are engaged in a scientific demonstration
of its truth so that you will not confuse it with mere theory or
speculation.
To recall these fundamental principles to your mind and further
impress them upon you, we will restate them:
I. All human achievement comes about through some form of
bodily activity.
II. All bodily activity is caused, controlled and directed by
the mind.
We have been considering the relationship between mind and body
from the standpoint of the mind. Our investigation has been largely
introspective; that is to say, we simply looked within ourselves
and considered the effects of our mental operations upon our own
bodies. The facts we had before us were facts of which we had
direct knowledge. We did not have to go out and seek them in the
mental and bodily activities of other persons. We found them here
within ourselves, inherent in our consciousness. To observe them we
had merely to turn the spotlight into the hidden channels of our
own minds.
We come now to examine the mind's influence upon the body from
the standpoint of the body. To do this we must go forth and
investigate. We must use eye, ear and hand. We must use the forceps
and scalpel and microscope of the anatomist and physiologist.
But it is well worth while that we should do this. For our
investigation will show a bodily structure peculiarly adapted to
control by a governing consciousness. It will reveal to the eye a
physical mechanism peculiarly fitted for the dissemination of
intelligence throughout the body. And, most of all, it will
disclose the existence within the body of subordinate mental units,
each capable of receiving, understanding and acting upon the
intelligence thus submitted. And we shall have strongly
corroborative evidence of the mind's complete control over every
function of the body.
Examine a green plant and you will observe that it is composed
of numerous parts, each of which has some special function to
perform. The roots absorb food and drink from the soil. The leaves
breathe in carbonic acid from the air and transform it into the
living substance of the plant. Every plant has, therefore, an
anatomical structure, its parts and tissues visible to the naked
eye.
Put one of these tissues under a microscope and you will find
that it consists of a honeycomb of small compartments or
units. These compartments are called "cells," and the structure
of all plant tissues is described as "cellular." Wherever you may
look in any plant, you will find these cells making up its tissues.
The activity of any part or tissue of the plant, and consequently
all of the activities of the plant as a whole, are but the combined
and co-operating activities of the various individual cells of
which the tissues are composed. The living cell, therefore, is
at the basis of all plant life.
In the same way, if you turn to the structure of any animal, you
will find that it is composed of parts or organs made up of
different kinds of tissues, and these tissues examined under a
microscope will disclose a cellular structure similar to that
exhibited by the plant.
Look where you will among living things, plant or animal, you
will find that all are mere assemblages of cellular
tissues.
Extend your investigation further, and examine into forms of
life so minute that they can be seen only with the most powerful
microscope and you will come upon a whole universe of tiny
creatures consisting of a single cell.
Indeed, it is a demonstrable fact that these tiny units of life
consisting of but a single cell are far more numerous than the
forms of life visible to the naked eye. You will have some idea of
their size and number when we tell you that millions may live and
die and reproduce their kind in a single thimbleful of earth.
Every plant, then, or every animal, whatever its species,
however simple or complicated its structure, is in the last
analysis either a single cell or a confederated group of
cells.
All life, whether it be the life of a single cell or of an
unorganized group of cells or of a republic of cells, has as its
basis the life of the cell.
For all the animate world, two great principles stand
established. First, that every living organism, plant or
animal, big or little, develops from a cell, and is itself a
composite of cells, and that the cell is the unit of all life.
Secondly, that the big and complex organisms have through long
ages developed out of simpler forms, the organic life of today
being the result of an age-long process of evolution.
What, then, is the cell, and what part has it played in this
process of evolution?
To begin with, a cell is visible only through a microscope. A
human blood cell is about one-three-thousandth of an inch across,
while a bacterial cell may be no more than
one-twenty-five-thousandth of an inch in diameter.
Yet, small as it is, the cell exhibits all of the customary
phenomena of independent life; that is to say, it nourishes itself,
it grows, it reproduces its kind, it moves about, and it
feels. It is a living, breathing, feeling, moving, feeding
thing.
The term "cell" suggests a walled-in enclosure. This is because
it was originally supposed that a confining wall or membrane was an
invariable and essential characteristic of cell structure. It is
now known, however, that while such a membrane may exist, as it
does in most plant cells, it may be lacking, as is the case in most
animal cells.
The only absolutely essential parts of the cell are the inner
nucleus or kernel and the tiny mass of living jelly
surrounding it, called the protoplasm.
The most powerful microscopes disclose in this protoplasm a
certain definite structure, a very fine, thread-like network
spreading from the nucleus throughout the semi-fluid albuminous
protoplasm. It is certainly in line with the broad analogies of
life, to suppose that in each cell the nucleus with its network is
the brain and nervous system of that individual cell.
All living organisms consist, then simply of cells. Those
consisting of but one cell are termed unicellular; those comprising
more than one cell are called pluricellular.
The unicellular organism is the unit of life on this earth. Yet
tiny and ultimate as it is, every unicellular organism is possessed
of an independent and "free living" existence.
To be convinced of this fact, just consider for a moment the
scope of development and range of activities of one of these tiny
bodies.
"We see, then," says Haeckel, "that it performs all the
essential life functions which the entire organism accomplishes.
Every one of these little beings grows and feeds itself
independently. It assimilates juices from without, absorbing them
from the surrounding fluid. Each separate cell is also able to
reproduce itself and to increase. This increase generally takes
place by simple division, the nucleus parting first, by a
contraction round its circumference, into two parts; after which
the protoplasm likewise separates into two divisions. The single
cell is able to move and creep about; from its outer surface it
sends out and draws back again finger-like processes, thereby
modifying its form. Finally, the young cell has feeling, and is
more or less sensitive. It performs certain movements on the
application of chemical and mechanical irritants."
The single living cell moves about in search of food. When food
is found it is enveloped in the mass of protoplasm, digested and
assimilated.
The single cell has the power of choice, for it refuses
to eat what is unwholesome and extends itself mightily to reach
that which is nourishing.
Moebius and Gates are convinced that the single cell possesses
memory, for having once encountered anything dangerous, it
knows enough to avoid it when presented under similar
circumstances. And having once found food in a certain place, it
will afterwards make a business of looking for it in the same
place.
And, finally, Verwörn and Binet have found in a single
living cell manifestations of the emotions of surprise and
fear and the rudiments of an ability to adapt means to an
end.
Let us now consider pluricellular organisms and consider them
particularly from the standpoint of organic evolution. The
pluricellular organism is nothing more nor less than a later
development, a confederated association of unicellular organisms.
Mark the development of such an association.
Originally each separate cell performed all the functions of a
separate life. The bonds that united it to its fellows were of the
most transient character. Gradually the necessities of environment
led to a more and more permanent grouping, until at last the bonds
of union became indissoluble.
Meanwhile, the great laws of "adaptation" and "heredity," the
basic principles of evolution, have been steadily at work, and
slowly there has come about a differentiation of cell function, an
apportionment among the different cells of the different kinds of
labor.
As the result of such differentiation, the pluricellular
organism, as it comes ultimately to be evolved, is composed of many
different kinds of cells. Each has its special function. Each has
its field of labor. Each lives its own individual life. Each
reproduces its own kind. Yet all are bound together as elements of
the same "cell society" or organized "cell state."
Among pluricellular organisms man is of course supreme. He is
the one form of animal life that is most highly differentiated.
| Microscopic Studies in Human Anatomy |
|
MICROSCOPIC STUDIES IN HUMAN ANATOMY, PRIVATE
LABORATORY, SOCIETY OF APPLIED PSYCHOLOGY
|
Knowing what you now know of microscopic anatomy, you cannot
hold to the simple idea that the human body is a single life-unit.
This is the naive belief that is everywhere current among men
today. Inquire among your own friends and acquaintances and you
will find that not one in a thousand realizes that he is, to put it
jocularly, singularly plural, that he is in fact an assemblage of
individuals.
Not only is the living human body as a whole alive, but "every
part of it as large as a pin-point is alive, with a separate and
independent life all its own; every part of the brain, lungs,
heart, muscles, fat and skin." No man ever has or ever can count
the number of these parts or cells, some of which are so minute
that it would take thousands in a row to reach an inch.
"Feeling" or "consciousness" is the sum total of the feelings
and consciousness of millions of cells, just as an orchestral
harmony is a composite of the sounds of all the individual
instruments.
In the ancient dawn of evolution, all the cells of the human
body were of the same kind. But Nature is everywhere working out
problems of economy and efficiency. And, to meet the necessities of
environment, there has gradually come about a parceling out among
the different cells of the various tasks that all had been
previously called upon to perform for the support of the human
institution.
This differentiation in kinds of work has gradually brought
about corresponding and appropriate changes of structure in the
cells themselves, whereby each has become better fitted to perform
its part in the sustenance and growth of the body.
When you come to think that these processes of adaptation and
heredity in the human body have been going on for countless
millions of years, you can readily understand how it is that
the human body of today is made up of more than thirty different
kinds of cells, each having its special function.
We have muscle cells, with long, thin bodies like pea-pods, who
devote their lives to the business of contraction; thin, hair-like
connective tissue cells, whose office is to form a tough tissue for
binding the parts of the body together; bone cells, a trades-union
of masons, whose life work it is to select and assimilate salts of
lime for the upkeep of the joints and framework; hair, skin, and
nail cells, in various shapes and sizes, all devoting themselves to
the protection and ornamentation of the body; gland cells, who give
their lives, a force of trained chemists, to the abstraction from
the blood of those substances that are needed for digestion; blood
cells, crowding their way through the arteries, some making regular
deliveries of provisions to the other tenants, some soldierly
fellows patrolling their beats to repel invading disease germs,
some serving as humble scavengers; liver cells engaged in the
menial service of living off the waste of other organs and at the
same time converting it into such fluids as are required for
digestion; windpipe and lung cells, whose heads are covered with
stiff hairs, which the cell throughout its life waves incessantly
to and fro; and, lastly, and most important and of greatest
interest to us, brain and nerve cells, the brain cells constituting
altogether the organ of objective intelligence, the instrument
through which we are conscious of the external world, and the nerve
cells serving as a living telegraph to relay information, from one
part of the body to another, with the "swiftness of thought."
Says one writer, referring to the cells of the inner or true
skin: "As we look at them arranged there like a row of bricks, let
us remember two things: first, that this row is actually in our
skin at this moment; and, secondly, that each cell is a living
being—it is born, grows, lives, breathes, eats, works, decays
and dies. A gay time of it these youngsters have on the very banks
of a stream that is bringing down to them every minute stores of
fresh air in the round, red corpuscles of the blood, and a constant
stream of suitable food in the serum. But it is not all pleasure,
for every one of them is hard at work."
And again, speaking of the cells that line the air-tubes, he
says: "The whole interior, then, of the air-tubes resembles nothing
so much as a field of corn swayed by the wind to and fro, the
principal sweep, however, being always upwards towards the throat.
All particles of dust and dirt inhaled drop on this waving forest
of hairs, and are gently passed up and from one to another out of
the lungs. When we remember that these hairs commenced waving at
our birth, and have never for one second ceased since, and will
continue to wave a short time after our death, we are once more
filled with wonder at the marvels that surround us on every
side."
Remarkable confirmatory evidence of the fact that every organ of
the body is composed of individual cell intelligences, endowed with
an instinctive knowledge of how to perform their special functions,
is found in the experiments of Dr. Alexis Carrel, the recipient of
the Nobel prize for science for 1912.
Dr. Carrel has taken hearts, stomachs and kidneys out of
living animals, and by artificial nourishment has succeeded in
keeping them steadily at work digesting foods, and so on, in
his laboratory, for months after the death of the bodies from
which they were originally taken.
We see, then, that every human body is an exceedingly complex
association of units. It is a marvelously correlated and organized
community of countless microscopic organisms. It is a sort of
cell republic, as to which we may truthfully paraphrase:
Life and Union, One and Inseparable.
Every human body is thus made up of countless cellular intelligences, each of which instinctively utilizes ways and means for the performance of its special functions and the reproduction of its kind. These cell intelligences carry on, without the knowledge or volition of our central consciousness—that is to say, subconsciously—the vital operations of the body.
Under normal conditions, conditions of health, each cell does
its work without regard to the operations of its neighbors. But in
the event of accident or disease, it is called upon to repair the
organism. And in this it shows an energy and intelligence that
"savor of creative power." With what promptness and vigor the cells
apply themselves to heal a cut or mend a broken bone! In such cases
all that the physician can do is to establish outward conditions
that will favor the co-operative labors of these tiny
intelligences.
The conclusion to be drawn from all this is obvious. For, if
every individual and ultimate part of the body is a mind
organism, it is very apparent that the body as a whole is
peculiarly adapted to control and direction by mental
influences.
Do not lose sight of the fact that in proving such control we
are laying the foundation for a scientific method of achieving
practical success in life, since all human achievement comes about
through some form of bodily activity.
We assume now your complete acceptance of the following
propositions, based as they are upon facts long since discovered
and enunciated in standard scientific works:
a. The whole body is composed of cells, each of which is
an intelligent entity endowed with mental powers commensurate with
its needs.
b. The fact that every cell in the body is a mind
cell shows that the body, by the very nature of its component
parts, is peculiarly susceptible to mental influence and
control.
To these propositions we now append the following:
c. A further examination of the body reveals a central
mental organism, the brain, composed of highly differentiated cells
whose intelligence, as in the case of other cells, is commensurate
with their functions.
d. It reveals also a physical mechanism, the nervous
system, peculiarly adapted to the communication of intelligence
between the central governing intelligence and the subordinate
cells.
e. The existence of this mind organism and this mechanism
of intercommunication is additional evidence of the control and
direction of bodily activities by mental energy.
The facts to follow will not only demonstrate the truth of these
propositions, but will disclose the existence within every one of
us of a store of mental energies and activities of which we are
entirely unconscious.
The brain constitutes the organ of central governing
intelligence, and the nerves are the physical means employed in
bodily intercommunication.
Brain and nerves are in other words the physical mechanism
employed by the mind to dominate the body.
Single nerve fibers are fine, thread-like cells. They are so
small as to be invisible to the naked eye. Some of them are so
minute that it would take twenty thousand of them laid side by side
to measure an inch. Every nerve fiber in the human body forms one
of a series of connecting links between some central nerve cell in
the brain or spinal cord on the one hand and some bodily tissue on
the other.
All nerves originating in the brain may be divided into two
classes according as they carry currents to the brain or from it.
Those carrying currents to the brain are called sensory
nerves, or nerves of sensation; those carrying currents from the
brain are called motor nerves, or nerves of motion.
Among the sensory nerves are the nerves of consciousness; that
is, the nerves whereby we receive sense impressions from the
external world. These include the nerves of touch, sight, pain,
hearing, temperature, taste and smell. Motor nerves are those that
carry messages from the brain and spinal cord on the one hand to
the muscles on the other. They are the lines along which flash all
orders resulting in bodily movements.
Another broad division of nerves is into two great nerve
systems. There are the cerebro-spinal system and the
sympathetic system. The first, the cerebro-spinal system,
includes all the nerves of consciousness and of voluntary
action; it includes all nerves running between the brain and
spinal cord on the one hand and the voluntary muscles on the other.
The second, the sympathetic nerve system, consists of all the
nerves of the unconscious or functional life; it therefore includes
all nerves running between the brain and sympathetic or involuntary
nerve centers on the one hand and the involuntary muscles on the
other.
Every bodily movement or function that you can start or stop at
will, even to such seemingly unconscious acts as winking, walking,
etc., is controlled through the cerebro-spinal system. All other
functions of the body, including the great vital processes, such as
heart pulsation and digestion, are performed unconsciously, are
beyond the direct control of the will, and are governed through the
sympathetic nerve system.
It is obvious that the cerebro-spinal nerve system is the organ
of consciousness, the apparatus through which the mind exercises
its conscious and voluntary control over certain functions of the
body. It is equally obvious that the sympathetic system is not
under the immediate control of consciousness, is not subject to the
will, but is dominated by mental influences that act without, or
even contrary to, our conscious will and sometimes without our
knowledge.
Yet you are not to understand that these two great nerve systems
are entirely distinct in their operations. On the contrary, they
are in many respects closely related.
| Separate Nerve Centers |
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SEPARATE NERVE CENTERS, PLEXUSES AND GANGLIA,
THE "LITTLE BRAINS" OF THE HUMAN BODY
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Thus, the heart receives nerves from both centers of government,
and besides all this is itself the center of groups of nerve cells.
The power by which it beats arises from a ganglionic center within
the heart itself, so that the heart will continue to beat apart
from the body if it be supplied with fresh blood. But the rapidity
of the heart's beating is regulated by the cerebro-spinal and
sympathetic systems, of which the former tends to retard the beat
and the latter tends to accelerate it.
In the same way, your lungs are governed in part by both
centers, for you can breathe slowly or rapidly as you will, but you
cannot, by any power of your conscious will, stop breathing
altogether.
Your interest in the brain and nerve system is confined to such
facts as may prove to be of use to you in your study of the mind.
These anatomical divisions interest you only as they are identified
with conscious mental action on the one hand and unconscious mental
action on the other.
It is, therefore, of no use to you to consider the various
divisions of the sympathetic nerve system, since the sympathetic
nerve system in its entirety belongs to the field of unconscious
mental action. It operates without our knowledge and without our
will.
The cerebro-spinal system consists of the spinal cord and the
brain. The brain in turn is made up of two principal subdivisions.
First, there is the greater or upper brain, called the cerebrum;
secondly, there is the lower or smaller brain, called the
cerebellum. The cerebrum in turn consists of three parts: the
convoluted surface brain, the middle brain and the
lower brain. So that in all we have the surface
brain, the middle brain, the lower brain and the
cerebellum. All these parts consist of masses of brain cells
with connecting nerve fibers.
And now, as to the functions of these various parts. Beginning
at the lowest one and moving upward, we find first that the
spinal cord consists of through lines of nerves running
between the brain and the rest of the body. At the same time it
contains within itself certain nerve centers that are sufficient
for many simple bodily movements. These bodily movements are such
as are instinctive or habitual and require no distinct act of the
will for their performance. They are mere "reactions," without
conscious, volitional impulse.
Moving up one step higher, we find that the cerebellum is
the organ of equilibrium, and that it as well as the spinal cord
operates independently of the conscious will, for no conscious
effort of the will is required to make one reel from dizziness.
As to the divisions of the greater brain or cerebrum, we want
you to note that the lower brain serves a double purpose.
First, it is the channel through which pass through lines of
communication to and from the upper brain and the mid-brain on the
one hand and the rest of the body on the other. Secondly, it is
itself a central office for the maintenance of certain vital
functions, such as lung-breathing, heart-beating, saliva-secreting,
swallowing, etc., all involuntary and unconscious in the sense that
consciousness is not necessary to their performance.
The next higher division, or mid-brain, is a large region
from which the conscious will issues its edicts regulating all
voluntary bodily movements. It is also the seat of certain special
senses, such as sight.
Lastly, the surface brain, known as the cortex, is the
interpretative and reflective center, the abode of memory,
intellect and will.