Livewired - Book Summary

The marvel of the adaptable brain: Discovering how our minds reshape themselves

Imagine the world’s most advanced technology. It's not a cutting-edge AI, nor is it a spacecraft designed to traverse the cosmos. According to neuroscientist David Eagleman, this unparalleled technology is nestled within our skulls — the human brain. This remarkable organ, seemingly ordinary in appearance, boasts a level of adaptability and a capacity for dealing with change that surpasses any invention to date.

The secret to the brain's supremacy lies in its ceaseless self-modification — a process Eagleman refers to as livewiring. Unlike hardware, which remains static and unchanging once manufactured, the brain is more akin to software, constantly updating and reprogramming itself in response to new information and experiences.

Throughout this exploration, you'll delve into the fascinating ways in which the brain rewrites its own circuitry. By the end of our journey, you'll understand things like:

- Why certain blind individuals indeed possess extraordinary musical abilities;

- The possibility for humans to intuitively sense magnetic fields;

- And the curious case in the 1980s when many were briefly convinced that IBM's logo had shifted in hue.

The incredible plasticity of the brain is not just a scientific curiosity; it's a fundamental characteristic that allows us to learn, adapt, and survive in an ever-changing world. Join us as we unravel the mysteries behind the brain's livewired nature and discover just how dynamic our gray matter truly is.

The astonishing adaptability of the brain

Picture a young boy named Matthew, who, only three years into life, found himself in the clutches of relentless seizures. These weren't just fleeting episodes; they anchored him to hospital beds for days or weeks, veiling his childhood in uncertainty. By age six, a radical proposition was laid before his parents: remove the entire hemisphere of Matthew's brain troubled by seizures.

It was a drastic move, but one that ultimately redefined Matthew's future. After the surgery, within merely three months, he was living a life remarkably close to that of any other child — albeit with a slight limp and some difficulties in hand coordination. It seemed incomprehensible that a boy with only half a brain could function so normally, but Matthew’s story is a profound testament to the brain's incredible talent for livewiring.

Brains possess a remarkable knack for self-reconfiguration.

A fully-developed brain is a constellation of 86 billion neurons, each linked to countless others, creating a seemingly boundless network. Yet, what's truly stunning isn't just this number, but the dynamic choreography happening within. We once imagined the brain with fixed boundaries, areas neatly allocated for specific tasks. However, the reality unfolds more like a mesmeric dance, with regions interconnecting, conversing, and sometimes, even vying for space.

Imagine an intricately woven tapestry, constantly being rethreaded by its own pattern — that's our brain. DNA might dictate our genetic blueprint, but it's just a fragment of our story. Our brains take shape and flourish through our experiences and interactions, especially during childhood when the faculty for change is at its zenith.

This process of transformation isn't just about adapting to the external world, but also to our inner selves. In a particular cortex called the somatosensory, lies a miniaturized version of our bodies, known as the homunculus. This neurological map charts out territories for each limb and sense. But this map isn't set in stone — it's customizable.

Why do some blind individuals manifest exceptional musical prowess? The answer lies in the homunculus. Blind from birth, they don't use the space typically reserved for vision; that real estate doesn't go to waste. Instead, it gets reassigned — often to auditory functions, enriching their capacity for sound perception, hence the heightened musicality of people like Stevie Wonder or Andrea Bocelli. They don't just have a gift; their brains have been livewired to enhance it.

Our brains don't just passively inhabit our skulls; they actively seize the opportunities presented to them, morphing in ways that maximize their potential. This is the essence of livewiring — the art of the brain's continuous and necessary adaptation.

The remarkable brain: Deciphering any sensory input it encounters

Consider the strange and seemingly outlandish experiment conducted by Paul Bach-y-Rita in the 1960s, where a blind man found himself perched in a modified dental chair, studded with a matrix of 400 Teflon tips. Above him, a camera captured the world in visual frames, translating these into patterns of pressure against his back. It might have sounded absurd, yet after days of familiarization, the man began to interpret the external objects simply through the sensation upon his skin. Vision was no longer strictly visual; the brain illustrated its astounding ability to process sensory inputs, regardless of their origin.

And indeed, the brain can process whatever sort of sensory information it receives.

Examples of this sensory alchemy abound. Sonic glasses provide blind individuals with auditory cues about their surroundings. Meanwhile, cochlear implants convert sound into electrical signals, offering those with hearing impairments a new way to experience auditory information. Initially overwhelming, these signals soon become an intelligible language to the brain.

Now let's venture into sensory enhancement, where typical senses are not just replicated but expanded. A helmet engineered by a French team empowers users with a 360-degree visual field — a panoramic perspective akin to that of a fly. The brain's plasticity is showcased once more as it adjusts to the influx of novel sensory data, sometimes in a mere quarter of an hour.

Progressing further into the realm of sensory addition, imagine acquiring entirely new senses — ones unbeknownst to human experience. Take Todd Huffman, who ventured to embed a magnet in his finger, unlocking his ability to feel the pull and texture of magnetic fields. With this, he didn't merely gain a new sensation; hues and textures previously unfelt were now part of his sensory palette.

The potential for new senses is boundless. Vibrations could be a conduit for internet-based data, allowing us to sense social media pulses or the ebb and flow of stock markets. Intimate connections could be transformed with partners feeling each other’s vital signs, bridging physical distance with a sensory link.

But as we revel in the prospects of sensory input, our thoughts turn to what the brain does with all this information. How does it translate these diverse stimuli into meaningful experiences? This next part of the story is about the brain's output, an area just as intriguing as its remarkable input processing capabilities.

How the brain masters any body it's connected to

In exploring the vast capabilities of the brain, let's look beyond the human species to a dog named Faith, who, defying the typical four-legged stride, learned to navigate the world adroitly on just two legs. Humans, too, exhibit such extraordinary adaptability — consider the armless archer Matt Stutzman, who holds a record for the longest accurate archery shot, using his feet and shoulders in place of hands.

This brings us to an essential insight: The brain is equipped to masterfully operate any body or appendage it controls.

But how exactly does the brain accomplish such feats? At the heart of this learning process is a concept known as "babbling." It's the same experimental and feedback-driven method a baby uses when learning to talk. They babble, observe the responses of those around them, and slowly refine their sounds into comprehensible speech.

This principle of trial and error extends beyond speech to virtually any skill we learn. Take engineer Destin Sandlin, who challenged himself with a bicycle that worked in reverse — turning left steered the bike right, and vice versa. Through a process similar to motor babbling, he faltered, adjusted, and eventually, mastered this counterintuitive task.

The capability of the brain to output a vast range of skills propels us toward a future where technology like artificial limbs, powered by the brain, is becoming a reality. The extraordinary part? Proximity isn't even necessary. Wireless technologies enable control over limbs or machines without direct physical connection.

Illustrating this, researchers at Duke University conducted an experiment where a monkey on a treadmill in North Carolina controlled a robot's gait in Japan through its brain signals. Even when the monkey ceased walking, it still pondered the action, prompting the robot to continue its stride.

Such revelations of the brain's prowess hint at a future brimming with possibilities. Imagine a world where a malfunctioning limb could be replaced effortlessly with a prosthetic as responsive as a natural one, or where remote robots could be piloted by mere thought across the depths of the ocean or into the vastness of space. Our brains are not just organs of thought; they are the maestros of movement, capable of conducting an incredible symphony of physical actions across any interface they encounter.

The brain evolves to prioritize what matters most to it

Consider the prodigious violinist Itzhak Perlman, whose response to an admirer willing to "give his life" to play as Perlman does was strikingly straightforward: "I did." The transformation of Perlman’s brain into a repository of musical prowess speaks volumes about the dedication essential to master a craft. Musicians of his caliber often bear brains that differ in structure from those less musically inclined, bearing out the truth that practice makes perfect — but there's more to it.

The fact is, mastery also hinges on what the brain deems worthy of effort.

Picture Fred — the hypothetical brother of tennis legends Serena and Venus Williams. With the same genetic potential and opportunities, the only element missing is his interest in tennis. Without a genuine desire or perceived benefit, Fred would likely remain a bystander rather than a Wimbledon champion.

This leads us to a fundamental revelation: The brain adapts based on what’s important to it.

Consider two infants: Hayato in Japan and William in America. Given the same neurological starting line, their brains diverge in development based on their environments. William discerns the "R" and "L" sounds as separate entities in English, but Hayato, surrounded by Japanese, will find those sounds to be inconsequential to communication, leading to his brain discarding the need to differentiate them.

Our brains, while remarkably adaptable, are selective in allocating resources. They recalibrate based upon utility and necessity to the individual. Hence, echolocation remains an unlikely skill for the sighted to learn, while the blind may harness it out of essential need. Similarly, a dog like Faith learns to trot on two legs because her survival doesn't entertain an alternative.

In cases of impairment, necessity can spur adaptation as well. When a functional arm is immobilized, the brain turns its attention to the less capable one, invoking the latent potential for recovery — a demonstration of the brain's capability to rebound when challenged.

Contained within this selective adaption is a neurochemical narrative governed by acetylcholine. This messenger signals the brain to remodel itself, but only when an experience registers as significant.

Absent that significance, our brain's transformative energy dissipates. Just like Fred Williams, dispassionate about tennis, we can practice endlessly without making a dent in our proficiency. The brain, it seems, is every bit as discerning about its investments as we are about ours, diligently devoting its wiring to what it perceives as valuable and meaningful in the mosaic of experiences that shape us.

The brain's knack for automating routine perceptions

In an odd twist of memory, many recall the IBM logo from the 1980s as having a reddish hue — a curious misperception that never actually stemmed from any alteration in design. Instead, the phenomenon resulted from people staring at early computer screens, which often displayed green text on a black background. The eyes became so accustomed to this display that when looking away, viewers would perceive green's opposite on the color wheel — red.

This begs the question: why does the brain do this?

The brain locks down stable information so we don’t have to think about it.

This fascinating ability of the brain is akin to the effect you might notice after watching a waterfall. Once your gaze shifts to a stationary rock, the illusion of an upward motion takes hold, a mere trickery of the brain, which has grown to expect a perpetual downward flow.

This sensory filtering isn't just an oddity; it's constantly at play, even right now. The blood vessels that coat our eyes should be visible at all times, but because they are fixed and habitual, the brain deems them unnecessary for our conscious attention, rendering them effectively invisible.

Taken to an extreme, a creature like a reptile would struggle to see unmoving objects, but for humans, this selective perception saves energy by ignoring the static and mundane in favor of what's new and changing. The brain is primed for the novel — this is when it springs to attention.

Therein lies a critical insight into how easily habits form, for good or ill. Consider the vicious grip of addiction or the wrenching pangs of loss; the former becomes an unremarkable fixture in the neural landscape, the latter a jarring void where the brain had forgotten to anticipate an absence. Both are manifestations of the brain's capacity to normalize the frequent and struggle with the unexpected, a feature that defines much of our daily experience.

The ebbing tide of brain plasticity with age

The story of Matthew, the boy who miraculously adjusted to life with half a brain after a drastic surgery, underscores an essential aspect of neuroplasticity: it's most potent in youth. As awe-inspiring as our brain's capacity for change is, it certainly diminishes with age, making the potential for comprehensive transformations like Matthew's rarer in older individuals.

Brain plasticity declines as we grow older.

This phenomenon is exemplified in the world of celebrity, with Mila Kunis and Arnold Schwarzenegger providing stark contrasts. Kunis, having relocated from Ukraine to the United States at seven, speaks English without a trace of her native tongue, a feat enabled by her young, malleable brain. Schwarzenegger, on the other hand, retains his distinct Austrian inflection, having crossed linguistic borders far later in life.

Not all brain regions are created equal when it comes to the permanence of change. While our primary auditory cortex sets its patterns early on, leading to the fixed perceptions of sounds in Hayato and William, other areas like the somatosensory cortex maintain a certain degree of plasticity across our lifespan.

Why this variability? David Eagleman suggests it's connected to constancy. Aspects of our world that are uniform and stable become ingrained. The brain, ever practical, devotes its resources to adapting to novel and changing circumstances — much like a library is built before its collections are amassed, with the architecture enduring while the content shifts.

For children, whose neural blueprints are still fresh, the possibilities are near endless. However, for adults, it's a different story, but not a hopeless one. The Nun Study bears witness to the brain's remarkable endurance. Participants displayed an impressive resilience to Alzheimer's disease's physiological markers purely through living mentally stimulating and socially active lives.

An adult brain may not be as pliable as a child's, yet activity and engagement can perpetuate its adaptability. So, the trick to an ever-youthful brain could lie in a simple mantra: stay active, stay curious, keep learning. Our minds may be set in their shelves, but the books we fill them with can still be varied, vibrant, and ever-evolving.

The staying power of early life memories

In a curious inquiry, individuals with synesthesia, a condition where sensory experiences intertwine, were questioned about the colors they perceived for certain letters. A fascinating pattern emerged among those born between the 1960s and the 1980s, with letters A through F consistently evoking a spectrum of colors that precisely matched the hues of a popular Fisher-Price alphabet magnet set from their youth.

Older memories endure more effectively than recent ones.

This phenomenon highlights the profound impact of our early experiences on memory retention. Childhood memories often have a tendency to be deeply imprinted into our neural fabric. Take the example of Albert Einstein, whose last words were lost to history as he reverted to his native German, a language of his early life and a clear illustration of the enduring nature of long-term memory.

Memory, however, is an intricate and distributed process, akin to cloud computing — with information not stored in a single location but rather scattered across various servers, or in this case, neural networks. While synaptic connections, those vital intersections where neurons communicate, are common focal points in memory research, this spotlight is primarily due to their accessibility for study. Yet beneath this synaptic surface, a complex interplay involving new neurons and gene expression is at play, with much of its contribution to memory still cloaked in mystery.

Such complexities of the brain open vast horizons for technological and architectural innovation. Robots, for instance, could surpass their current limitations by embracing a livewired approach, enabling them to better adapt to unexpected challenges. Buildings too could one day dynamically adjust to the patterns of their inhabitants, reshaping themselves like neurological pathways in response to human behavior.

While the idea of self-transforming structures seems a stretch for today's world, it’s a possibility within reach of the brain's incredible capacity for change. If our minds can hold on to a childhood memory with such clarity and strength, what else might they accomplish with the knowledge and creativity we continue to unearth?

Embracing the brain's livewired legacy for the future

In essence, our brain is a master of change, an organic powerhouse of adaptability that eclipses our wildest technological dreams. David Eagleman’s term "livewiring" encapsulates the brain's continuous and agile reconfiguration in response to new experiences, physical changes, and skills acquisition.

While this extraordinary ability to reshape neural connections does decline with age, it's never entirely forfeited. The brain's plasticity, its potential for lifelong adaptation, presents an expansive field of possibilities for both personal development and scientific innovation.

The revelations of livewiring not only deepen our understanding of the human condition but also beckon a future where technology and environments can be just as adaptable and responsive as the biological wonder within our skulls. This understanding affirms that our capacity for change, learning, and growth is as enduring as the brain itself, poised to carry us into a future rich with potential.