Deja Vu

One explanation I heard for the sensation of deja vu (and one that seems quite reasonable to me) is that it is the hindbrain's fault. The hindbrain is the part of your brain that stores stimuli that surpass a certain threshold (e.g. those associated with serious threats), in order to be able to quickly recognise similar situations, and react accordingly. Unfortunately, the information it stores is so "generic" that it is unable to distinguish a new situation with an old one, hence the feeling of deja vu. That said, it can still be quite useful, if for example the new situation poses a similar threat.

This morning, I had a deja vu of the more rational kind: in the back of the car, my kids were playing using a rubber band as an improvised guitar, in order to play along with the music from the car radio. They called out for me to have a look, and I almost did, even though I have a firm rule never to turn my head towards them while driving.

So where does the deja vu come in? I can hear you wondering. It is this: when I was three years old, I had a scooter that I would ride for hours (or at least that's how it seems now). But it did not have a bell with which I could warn people to get out of my way. So I improvised one by spanning a rubber band between two parts of the handlebar. It worked quite well ... up until the point when one end let go. I decided that there was no need to slow down; I could repair as I sailed along. Bad idea: while repairing my improvised bell, a picket fence suddenly decided to cross my path. (And I have still have the scar to prove it).

So in fact, my hindbrain should have warned me not to listen to rubber bands.
(Just in case you missed the reference, think of the crows in Dumbo singing "When I see an elephant fly").

Scarred for life

The first time I read Richard Dawkins' assertion (in "The Selfish Gene") that physical scars help their (male) bearers attract potential mates because they indicate survival skills, I felt quite pleased, because I have lots of scars. At the time, I did not stop to think whether this was a valid conclusion; I just accepted it as unexpected good news. This morning under the shower, however, I realized that almost none of my scars count in the way Dawkins meant.

For one thing, most of them are not very visible, either because they have faded with time (the ones on my chin, from an accident when I was four and the one across my eyebrow, from when my face collided with a toilet door during student party) or because they are usually covered (I have several on my scalp and behind my ear and one on my knee from a car accident, one on my stomach from an operation when I was one) or both (the scratches on my back - long story, better left untold). I even have one that was hidden on purpose, by a well-intentioned surgeon who had obviously not read or believed the scar theory.

For another, my scars do not indicate the type of survival skills Dawkins meant (he was referring to the animal kingdom). There is of course nothing wrong with surviving accidents and operations (as I say in my song "Unfair", the alternative is worse),



but you could also argue that it would be better not to have accidents (who knows, I might be a Bermuda triangle on legs) or need operations. And of course, accidents and illness can leave you worse off (Nietsche's idea that "what doesn't kill us makes us stronger" might be true collectively, on the level of the species, but does not necessarily apply to the individual), if only in the sense that they may also leave mental scars. No, the scars that really count in this context are battle scars.

In the world I live in, however, male survival depends on more than just physical prowess. People might still be impressed by muscles and Heidelberg duelling scars (which apparently are still quite popular!), but that really only counts in the initial stages of a relationship. Very soon after that, most males will have to prove they also have provider skills (either directly - a steady job, or indirectly - the qualities necessary to make money).

Luckily, I no longer need my scars for anything (I have built my nest already, and a very nice nest it is). But it is still a bit sad to have to trash yet another illusion ... as a general rule, I am all for truth and demystification. But sometimes it is nicer not to peek behind the curtain.