Spinning Yarns

I make it a policy never to go grocery shopping on an empty stomach. The reason for this is pretty simple — if I’m hungry, I will tend to buy things I don’t really need. Even though I am aware of this tendency, I have discovered that my average total bill is always higher on those occasions when I shop too far past a meal.

I’m neither a psychologist nor a neuroscientist, but my mental model for what happens goes something like this. The part of my brain controlling the shopping trip, which is a fairly high-level and rational activity involving organization, planning, and logical judgment, rides high up atop my cerebrum, so he can get a good view. Down below, lurking in his grumbling little corner atop the brain stem, is a more primordial and pragmatic fellow I generally think of as the “lizard-brain” — the one who is concerned with getting me to my next meal, avoiding being eaten by tigers, obtaining sex, and other such useful goals. As rational as the first fellow is, the lizard-brain is almost purely reactive.

So: In I walk to the grocery store, stomach rumbling. Up on top, Mr. Rational is taking out the list, locating a cart, and choosing an efficient path through the aisles. There, in among the fruits and vegetables, is a sweet, firm, tart, juicy apple; a faint aroma of which wafts up my nostrils, reminding me of apple-picking with my parents when I was a child. Mmm.

“Eat that,” says the no-nonsense Lizard Brain. Instinctively, I pick up the apple, so smooth and round, and of such a beautiful colour. My mouth waters. I can almost taste it already.

But at this very moment, Mr. Rational is in charge of Gross Motor Movements, and he has a conscience capable of recognizing the fact that I have not yet paid for this apple, which currently belongs to somebody else. The Lizard Brain cares nothing for human law; if the apple’s in my hand, it must be mine — the Law of the Jungle. He wants to eat it now, before somebody stronger takes it away. Rationality, however, diverts my hand, and I put the apple (along with a few of its brethren) into a bag, to take home.

The Lizard Brain, though thwarted in its attempts to get me to eat something, and confused by my irrational refusal to do so in open defiance of the will of Nature, does not grow maudlin about this state of affairs. Instead, as I pass by fresh carrots and garlic and potatoes, he bathes my memory with the sweet crunch of Gujarati carrot salad with black mustard seeds and fresh lemon juice, and makes my neurons sing with the pop and sizzle of garlic frying, or the warm comfort of mashed potatoes hot from the pot with parmesan melted on top. The hands obey, and gather these riches. But each time, in turn, they are turned from immediate gratification, toward the task at hand.

So it proceeds, throughout the store. Surrounded by the enticing smells and visions and textures of so many delightful foods, and driven by a grumble in the pit of my gut, I fill my cart to the brim with all manner of things which are good and useful. Alas, that my shopping list includes but few of these items.

Now, it’s not as if I am buying things I wouldn’t buy, under other circumstances. Oh, no! I am not wanton in that regard. But the rational part of my brain is really only the tool to get things done, not the motivator. And so, he fulfils his obligations with due diligence, toting it all up at the best available price and ticking items off the list as they are acquired. But my rational desires are masked (in such moments) by my more immediate need — and so I wind up rationalizing a much bigger collection of items than I had set down on my list, in a more sober moment.

I believe this is an issue which affects all of us, and it extends to areas of our lives beyond hunger and groceries. For instance, there are times when I am driven by a feeling of loneliness, to seek out the company of others — be they friends, lovers, associates, colleagues, or even enemies. Loneliness, like hunger, is a craving that can be fed with suitable foods. It is not a disease or an affliction; merely our body’s way of reminding us that we need each other, just as too we must draw breath, drink, sup, and sleep. The food for human loneliness is Companionship.

Just as there is good food and bad food, so too is there good and bad company. When we have been sated of either, we have the luxury to consider which varieties please us best. But when the gnawing of hunger or loneliness is thick upon you, questions about qualities are cast aside, and you reach out for whatever is available, to quench your basic need. Well, there is no shame in that! But it may, betimes, lead to choices which are arguably not in your best interest when held up against a longer view.

The Lizard Brain, of course, chiefly wants us to reproduce — the need to make a copy is as strong in its own way as the need to eat, drink, breathe, and be safe. But, of course, our Rational selves recognize that fulfilling this need must be done at a suitable time, and in a suitable manner. There is a higher law than to eat an apple simply because it happens that we can, at this instant. Ironically, putting the apple into a plastic bag is not at all a bad metaphor for how we deal with these complications in sex, as well.

Sex, like food, is one of the great Engines of human social relations, a fact which is often extremely gratifying. But just as I have learned not to go grocery shopping when the hunger is upon me, I have learned to avoid making important decisions about relationships when I am lonely. Making good life decisions is difficult at best, and when you’re horny, it’s damned near impossible. Nevertheless, we (or at least I) have often gotten caught up in that basic need, and lost sight of my own best interests. There’s nothing wrong with need, it’s just not a very good guide to making wise plans. To be truly happy, we must become more than simple machines for self-gratification.

Just like when I’m hungry in the grocery store, though, my Rational Mind has an incredible talent for justifying the things I want to do, and making them seem logical. So powerful is the rational faculty that you will usually believe your own convoluted rationalizations, even as we struggle to come up with them.

Quite often, you’re the only person who really buys such a tortuous justification, oddly enough. In plain fact, the real reasons are quite simple — as simple and harmless as the desire to eat that apple. There’s nothing whatsoever wrong in craving the sweet rush of physical touch, of intimate approval, of sex. It’s no worse than craving a dish of ice cream! But we talk it up into elaborate rhetorical costume, trying to convince ourselves and our friends that there is a Higher Purpose, perhaps even a Noble Aspiration! Nonsense! There is no shame in desires; but at the same time, there is no more nobility in fulfilling our lusts than there is in eating a particularly tasty Belgian chocolate. The result is good in itself, and that is all there is to it.

You’ve probably heard other people make their lame excuses, though. We’ve all had those conversations about the painfully transparent stories our friends tell when they want to explain why they filled their cart to capacity (“but it was on sale!”). How can I believe my justifications will be any more plausible than the incredible tales I’ve heard my friends spin? Chances are, my bullshit is just as obvious to them, as theirs is to me. That is my operating assumption, at any rate — but even knowing that, I still manage to come up with just as many excuses as the next person.

All right, so why can’t I just go ahead and eat that apple at the grocery store? Why not? I argue it is because my hunger is not the only question which needs to be addressed. In fact, that apple does not belong to me, and unless I pay for it, I am cheating the people who tend the orchard, the people who picked it, packed it, shipped it, and sent it; the stockboys and clerks and managers and planners who made it all possible for me to reach out and pick up that apple in the first place. Eating a fifteen-cent apple without paying for it is not a huge moral transgression, to be sure, but it serves to illustrate the principle that there is more structure at work in society than simply fulfilling my basic needs. That is why, when you put the apple in a bag and take it home, you’re not denying your needs — you’re simply fulfilling them in a way that also respects a longer-term interest. If everybody came and ate apples without paying for them, soon there would be no more apples at the store, and who would have any motivation to bring more?

I’m not trying to make a huge moral argument here; the doctrine of “the ends justify the means” has been properly discredited for centuries, by people with much finer minds and sharper tongues than your Humble Narrator’s. But I do think it’s worthwhile to remember that, before you go out shopping, it’s probably best if you have a little snack first. You’ll feel better later, I promise.

Filed by Michael at 15:35 under Philosophical
Comments Off