Toronto, October 6, 2024
Meanderings on the body, brain and mind
How are you and your body getting along?
The body does two main things. It performs routine work automatically (if you’re lucky), e.g., breathing. And it responds to specific commands, e.g., lift up that cup and take a sip of coffee. Specific commands are given by the brain animated by the mind.
As you age, your relationship with your body changes. Most young people don’t think much about this relationship. (Those with a chronic illness or disability, and fitness fanatics, are among the exceptions.) When you’re young, the mind is master of the body. The body is the mind’s servant. It does what it’s told. How wonderful is that! When you’re young, when it comes to caring for your body, you don’t have to do much more than remember to cut your hair and trim your toenails.
Physical health peaks on average at around age 35. Then, the process of decline begins. As that process of decline accelerates, your relationship with your body changes. Your body demands more and more attention. The master-servant relationship flips. The brain becomes the body’s servant. You are no longer entitled to good health: you have to earn it. This is not a pleasant inversion.
As physical decline gathers speed, more and more people step up and tell you what to do —doctors, physiotherapists, lifestyle gurus, dietitians, pharmacists, fitness trainers, wellness columnists, friends, spouses. They tell you: Take ten thousand steps a day. Eat a Mediterranean diet. Do back exercises. Eat fish. Cut back on booze. Do stretching exercises. Try aquafit. Floss twice a day. And you pay attention to what they tell you, because some parts of your body are beginning to hurt and others don’t work as well as they once did. There’s that wonky sciatic nerve. A dubious digestion. Migraine headaches. Arthritic hands. High blood pressure. Receding gums. You can’t even count any more on what used to be the body’s automatic functions: You never used to think, for example, about breathing, but now you are easily out of breath. You start to worry. What’s happening? Where’s it all going to end?
As the body deteriorates, the mind, itself weakening, is forced to engage with the body as never before. There’s less room in the brain for the big abstract questions, e.g., Why is there something rather than nothing? (see Endgame #55). Now you need available brain space to handle questions like, How can I unplug my sinuses? And there’s all those appointments to schedule: the family doctor, rheumatologist, cardiologist, respirologist, ophthalmologist, urologist, neurologist, prosthodontist, otolaryngologist...
Which brings me to the mind-body problem. René Descartes wrote that the characteristic of a mind is that it is conscious, not that it has shape or consists of physical matter. The brain, on the other hand, has physical characteristics and occupies space. Jonathan Westphal, a philosopher at Oxford University, discussing Descartes, observes: “It is the nature of bodies to be in space, and the nature of minds not to be in space... For the two to interact, what is not in space must act on what is in space.” He asks: “What happens, if anything, for example, when we decide to do even such a simple thing as to lift up a cup and take a sip of coffee? The arm moves, but it is difficult to see how the thought or desire could make that happen.”
Perhaps mulling over the mind-body problem can help dispel despondency brought on by aging. As we get old, the brain increasingly deals with the decrepitude of the body, and starts itself to fail. But the mind, separate from the brain and apart from the body, can roam untrammelled until the end. Part of us remains forever free.
*****
Some reader comments on Newsletter #82 (“Kelly, Rance, we hardly knew ye”)
Peter Figura, sports photographer, friend, and co-author (The Future of Tennis), reported on a Kelly Gruber sighting: “Last time I met Kelly Gruber was in 2023, when he was participating in a charity event benefiting the Milos Raonic Foundation. He was serving as one of the celebrity team captains.”
David Wolinsky writes: “Although I’m only a baseball fan at World Series time, the Blue Jays 92-93 World Series years are among my favourite memories. I can understand why you identify with Rance Mulliniks, a highly accomplished and respected life, marked by diligent and well-crafted work, and consistency start to present. Sadly, I must identify with Kelly Gruber...”
An older reader comments: “I grew up in Windsor, a Tiger fan. Hank Greenberg was my idol. I can name the starting lineup and starters of the 1945 world champions. Reno Bertoia was from Windsor, a journeyman infielder with the Tigers in the 1950s. I sat beside him at Assumption College where he was taking classes while he was still a player. He became a highly successful and respected High School teacher in Windsor when his playing days ended. Lovely guy.”
From my severest critic: “The picture of you with your glorious white locks, in a Mulliniks sweater, is bizarre. I was following baseball then closely as the stadium was at the CNE and I was president of it. I have absolutely no memory of him!”
And from an old friend: “I do recall your affinity for Rance Mulliniks. Indeed, I once asked of the Blue Jays how to acquire an autograph or autographed ball (there may have been an impending birthday). I recall being near the dugout during warmups where several fans were shouting out names of players looking for autographs (generally unsuccessfully) which may or may not have been connected to that effort. I do recall someone from the Jays office saying one could stand by the exit of the stadium where the players drive out from. My efforts did not extend that far.”
What another wonderful newsletter Philip. Particularly liked your closing sentences
"As we get old, the brain increasingly deals with the decrepitude of the body, and starts itself to fail. But the mind, separate from the brain and apart from the body, can roam untrammelled until the end. Part of us remains forever free" which reminded me of "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly"
you do write extraordinarily well for one so old; keep it up.
Love, Gina.