Your Brain Needs You

Your Brain Needs You

Why do we ignore the organ that keeps us alive?

Your brain controls everything that you do. Every breath that you take. Every time you move to scratch your arm or sneeze on your neighbor. Every time you laugh at a meme or process that the food you thought was ice cream is actually mashed potatoes.

It's all your brain.

And it takes care of you. When you touch a hot stove, your brain jerks your hand away. When a car is barreling towards you, your brain kicks you into overdrive so that you dodge it. It initiates shivers when it is too cold, keeps your internal processes like digestion going so that you have the energy to keep going and sends you to sleep so that you can start again the next day.

So why don't we take care of it back?

Our mental health is arguably the most important thing that we possess. Without it, we cannot think clearly. We cannot react appropriately to the things that happen to us; we lose relationships, drop productivity and efficiency and put ourselves at risk for harming ourselves. Even if every physical system in our body continued to run at 100 percent capacity, we would not be human without our mental and emotional health guiding us in both providing enjoyments from our existence and helping us to process the world around us.

Yet we ignore it all -- we pull all-nighters to prioritize one arbitrary number on a piece of paper, we consume substances that dull our brains and we pick at ourselves over small details. We stress over work and factors out of our control, tear ourselves up over relationships with people that we only mildly care about and we eat foods that we know aren't good fuel for us.

And when the warning signs begin -- fatigue, irritation or even the start of a physical illness -- we hook ourselves up a caffeine IV and continue on. We berate ourselves and stare down our checklists, angry that we cannot stay up for another two hours and check off oneee more thing.

But maybe that's good. Maybe, just once, we need to take the extra half an hour and soak in the bathtub. Maybe we need to road trip to the lake on a Tuesday and lay in the sunshine. Maybe we should call our grandparents or our friends in the car instead of listening to a podcast because we need these breaks. We need the 45-minute cat nap before opening back up the email tab. We need the walk to the mailbox with the puppy. We need the full 20 seconds to microwave a snack to just stop. And pause.

Take a moment.

And your brain will say thank you.

Cover Image Credit: The Conversation

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The Potomac Urges Me To Keep Going

A simple story about how and why the Potomac River brings me emotional clarity.


It's easy to take the simple things for granted. We tell ourselves that life is moving too fast to give them another thought. We are always thinking about what comes next. We can't appreciate what's directly in front of us because we are focused on what's in our future. Sometimes you need to snap back to present and just savor the fact that you are alive. That's what the Potomac River does for me.

I took the Potomac River for granted at one point. I rode by the river every day and never gave it a second glance. I was always distracted, never in the present. But that changed one day.

A tangle of thoughts was running rampant inside my head.

I have a lot of self-destructive tendencies. I find it's not that hard to convince yourself that life isn't worth living if nothing is there to put it in perspective.

My mind constantly conjures up different scenarios and follows them to their ultimate conclusion: anguish. I needed something to pull myself out of my mental quagmire.

All I had to do was turn my head and look. And I mean really look. Not a passing glance but rather a gaze of intent. That's when it hit me. It only lasted a minute or so but I made that moment feel like an eternity.

My distractions of the day, no matter how significant they seemed moments ago, faded away. A feeling of evanescence washed over me, almost as if the water itself had cleansed me.

I've developed a routine now. Whenever I get on the bus, I orient myself to get the best view of the river. If I'm going to Foggy Bottom, I'll sit on the right. If I'm going back to the Mount Vernon Campus, I'll sit on the left. I'll try to sit in a seat that allows me to prop my arm against the window, and rest my cheek against my palm.

I've observed the Potomac in its many displays.

I've observed it during a clear day when the sky is devoid of clouds, and the sun radiates a far-reaching glow upon the shimmering ripples below. I can't help but envy the gulls as they glide along the surface.

I've observed it during the rain when I have to wipe the fogged glass to get a better view. I squint through the gloom, watching the rain pummel the surface, and then the river rises along the bank as if in defiance of the harsh storm. As it fades from view, I let my eyes trace the water droplets trickling down the window.

I've observed it during snowfall when the sheets of white obscure my view to the point where I can only make out a faint outline.

I've observed it during twilight when the sky is ablaze with streaks of orange, yellow, and pink as the blue begins to fade to grey.

Last of all, I've observed it during the night, when the moon is swathed in a grey veil. The row of lights running along the edge of the bridge provides a faint gleam to the obsidian water below.

It's hard to tear away my eyes from the river now. It's become a place of solace. The moment it comes into view, I'll pause whatever I'm doing. I turn up the music and let my eyes drift across the waterfront. A smile always creeps across my face. I gain a renewed sense of life.

Even on my runs, I set aside time to take in the river. I'll run across the bridge toward Arlington and then walk back, giving myself time to look out over either side of the bridge. I don't feel in a rush for once. I just let the cool air brush against my face. Sometimes my eyes begin to water. Let's just say it's not always because of the wind.

I chase surreal moments. The kind of moments you can't possibly plan for or predict. Moments where you don't want to be anywhere else. The ones that ground your sense of being. They make life truly exceptional.

Though I crave these moments, they are hard to come by. You can't force them. Their very nature does not allow it. But when I'm near the river, these moments just seem to come naturally.

I remember biking around DC when I caught sight of the Potomac. Naturally, I couldn't resist trying to get a better view. I pulled up along the river bank, startling a lone gull before dismounting. I took a few steps until I reached the edge of the water. The sun shone brilliantly in the center of the horizon.

A beam of light stretched across the water toward me, almost like a pathway to the other side of the river. I felt an urge to walk forward. I let one-foot dangle over the water, lowering it slowly to reach the glittering water below. I debated briefly whether I could walk on water. Though it sounds ridiculous, anything felt possible. Snapping back to reality, I brought my foot back up and scanned the vast blue expanse before me.

Eventually, the wind began to buffet against my left cheek, as if directing me to look right. I turned my head. A couple was walking along the bike path. They paused beneath a tree for a moment and locked eyes. Smiling, the man leaned in and whispered something in the woman's ear. As she giggled, they began to kiss softly.

While I looked on with a smile of my own, I couldn't help but wonder if there was someone else out there in the world willing to share this moment with me.

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