WillSpirit

The idea to write about chameleons in my last post came via a mailing from the California Academy of Sciences. Only I did not mention chameleons, and wrote about the institution’s new building instead. Thinking about why I got sidetracked, I realize the structure has peeved me ever since I visited it after completion. In the process of learning to be a docent, I attended a series of some twelve lectures about the new structure, and it sounded like the coolest thing ever. But when I entered it, the place just seemed sterile to me. The exact opposite of what I expect from a museum about life and nature. Why the place struck me that way remains a a bit of a mystery. Inside, they built an enclosed rainforest. Yes, an actual jungle with trees climbing dozens of feet, vines, waterways, and all manner of creatures. Granted, the animals all live in display cases (except the butterflies, which flutter freely), but the glass boxes present the organisms well. They look as natural as possible under the circumstances. The effort to do something unique and mind-blowing succeeded. And that without even taking the vast aquariums into account.

Maybe I complain about its success. The museum does such a fantastic job of bringing a tropical jungle environment to San Francisco, that it reminds me of the words from the 1970 Joanie Mitchell song, “Took all the trees, put ‘em in a tree museum”. She wrote the lyrics about a botanical garden in Hawaii, but the Academy takes the concept a step further. Oddly, the sense of that song fulfilled as a prophecy bothers me as much of anything. Has it come to that? A jungle in a bubble?

So I ended up writing about glass enclosures, and comparing them to the way our culture encourages people to rope in feelings, sensitivity and intuition. Our emotions are ’supposed’ to remain confined, and not let out into the rational world of purchase and finance. We are to wall them off, the way the museum separates dirt, leaves, and bugs from the people walking concrete ramps in designer sneakers. A doomed and misguided stricture, it wipes all the messy ‘nature’ from the human psyche, leaving us with the machine like computations and reasoning of the brain’s neocortex (the evolutionarily ‘newest’ area of the nervous system, much enlarged in humans). When one compares the neocortex to the ‘older’ parts of the brain, sometimes called the ‘reptile brain’, a clear cut difference in regularity and modularity jumps out at you. On a functional level, the neocortex consists of repeating units of nearly identical cellular arrangement, which the brain adapts to different types of information processing in different regions. The ‘lizard brain’ on the other hand, looks chaotic, disorganized, and confusing. More organic and less like a biological iMac. The neocortex, don’t get me wrong, must be the most miraculous structure in the universe. Its capacity for figuring things out, speaking and symbolizing, creating art and song, and all the other human accomplishments must make God proud, if there is a ‘creating’ God (frankly, I kind of doubt that, but I remain open-minded and respect others who have faith that an omniscient consciousness built the universe).

Still, we share the more ‘organic’ appearing and deeper brain structures with a larger proportion of the animal kingdom. Like chameleons. (Did you think I’d forgotten about them?) What I read in that Academy publication said that chameleons don’t change their color so much in order to blend into their surroundings, as they do as an expression of ‘emotion’. It gladdened me to see affective responses freely ascribed to an organism as foreign as a lizard. When people muse about whether other animals have feelings (a discussion that happens more than I like) it immediately occurs to me that they have never loved a pet. Anyone who has bonded with a dog or cat does not need to conduct experiments to try to figure out if the animals emote. Those who love pets know that our non-human companions never stop expressing inner states that look very much like what we would call (for example) happiness, frustration, desire, or love. But I’ll have to admit, seeing the label ‘emotion’ attached to the interior world of a lizard surprised me. Not that I disagree. Even spiders seem to experience fear, for instance (ever tried to catch one and seen how it runs away in a ‘panic’?). Still, I usually think of chameleons as rather prosaic creatures.

Apparently such thoughts border on homo sapien bigotry. I humbly apologize to all reptiles for assuming they lack strong feelings. A male chameleon, in the throes of romance, will display crimson and green in vivid patterns, while puffing up like a decorated soldier on review. The female, if impressed, responds with a toned down version of the same coloration. If bored and uninterested, she turns brown. Would that human females were so easy to read.

Emotions are ancient. We share them with many (perhaps most) creatures on earth. They comprise one of our most touching bonds with the animal kingdom; unlike rational thought, which sets us apart. Emotions transform animals from machine-like entities with robotic needs for food and sex, into souls. Rather than acting like stimulus-response algorithms (if low on fuel, move toward food; if tanked up, search for a mate), they become seductive and flirtatious, ravenous or comfortably sated. Maybe just semantics, you might respond. How do we ‘know’ that a lizard flirts? Aren’t I just anthropomorphizing, to suggest such a thing? Yes. I am doing exactly that. If it looks like seduction, why not assume the lizard ‘feels’ amorous. Why should we jump to the arrogant conclusion that the chameleon has nothing going on inside. Just because we make machines that are incapable of emotion (though people try to make robots that emulate feelings; with eyebrows that move, for instance), have we justification for assuming that evolution works the same way? Does it really make ‘rational’ sense to postulate that emotions as we experience them popped into being along with the neocortex? Isn’t a more parsimonious explanation that they have been here all along? That the only human addition to the realm of feelings is the ability to speak, write, paint, and sing about them?

In that view, which I believe makes the most sense (even though it cannot be validated scientifically), emotions have an primeval heritage that we would do well to honor. Passions animate. They bring us the luxuriant and consuming experiences in life that intellect cannot comprehend. They are the language of the soul, and may even be the closest biological correlate to the ’spirit’ world. They make animals precious. If other creatures have feelings, then they demand better treatment than they often receive. And so do we.

If feelings come to us from the earliest forms of crawling life, then they define the animal kingdom in a fundamental way. (Some would even say plants have feelings. I am not ready to go that far, but who really knows?) As I said in the last post, emotion should not be treated like an unnecessary and accidental nuisance. A world of ‘Spocks’ would be an uninteresting planet (would you want to be a Vulcan?). Feelings have a noble lineage, bond us to the natural world, and bring texture to life. Reason just figures things out.

When younger, I thought of myself as a chameleon. I used the term in a sense that the Academy tells me was inaccurate. Chameleons do not go around matching the environment. So calling people who try to blend in with every crowd by that name spreads a false myth about the lizard. In any event, my camouflage skills worked poorly. Yes, I changed from group to group, but even so I seldom ‘fit in’. I made a poor chameleon, in that sense.

With my new understanding of the animal, however, I deserve the chameleon gold medal. My emotions spread through my whole being, and completely change the face I put toward others. When depressed, I am distant, pessimistic, and terse. When happy, I become intimate, excited, and voluble. Two completely different animals.

We are all chameleons in that sense. We all change our aspect according to our inner world’s weather. Some hide their condition better than others, and alter their hue less obviously. Perhaps their inner winds blow less intensely, their passion heats without searing, and the sleet of sadness stings only a little. Or maybe they just enclose the storms better than those with more demonstrative behavior. Either way, we also know people can have such histrionic responses that the main body of humanity shies away, calls them ‘ill’, and wants them to ingest synthetic chemicals. I’m one of those ‘overly emotional’, and ‘too sensitive’ human animals. Society tells people like me to settle down.

Je refuse! I plan to wear my heart on my sleeve with gusto. Not that I want to create havoc in my life, harm others, or ‘lose it’ at inopportune times. But when the ’spirit moves me’, I shall dance. I will boogie with all the myriad beasts on this earth, and be proud of my strong emotions. My feelings will bind me in spirit with all my furry, feathery, and scaly companions on the dance floor. Including the ‘cold-blooded’, but kaleidoscopic and ardent chameleon.