I credit neuroscientist Dr. Kyra Robinet for introducing me to the importance of a tiny, overlooked structure in the middle of the brain: the habenula. The fascinating role of the habenula is to keep us from feeling bad. Your immediate reaction might be, “Well, isn’t that the same thing as wanting to feel good?” Surprisingly, no.
When we face a difficult obstacle or setback, the habenula literally puts the brakes on our motivation, shutting down the “happy chemicals” in the brain that encourage us to persist. This fact gives us insight into why bad habits are so hard to break and new good habits are challenging to maintain.
You might initially think, Why do I have a part of my brain that actively tries to defeat me when I am trying to achieve something worthwhile, new, or different? Good question. The brain has a set of brakes; the habenula is a protective mechanism. It stops us from wasting precious time and energy on endeavors the brain predicts will fail. But therein lies the challenge: the habenula often causes us to imagine “pre-failure.” When our minds predict failure based on minor obstacles or momentary setbacks, we prematurely quit. If the brakes are too tight and responsive, that can be a problem.
Once when I was mountain biking, the relative I was with failed to tell me he recently adjusted the brakes on the bike he lent me. I lightly touched the brakes on a downhill before a jump, which sent me flying over the handlebars. Doing what looked like an iron cross pose, I cleared the bike midair. Not bad for a guy my age. Later my relative said, “Yeah. I should’ve told you about that.” Yes. You should have.
Nevertheless, the brakes in the brain are necessary. Avoidance of pain is arguably the most powerful human motivator, and it is wise to avoid needless suffering. Yet, purpose-driven pain is entirely different. As the psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl famously noted, “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” If you reflect on the most meaningful achievements in your life, didn’t they all require long periods of stress, effort, and sacrifice? We need well-adjusted brakes.
As Midwesterners, we have effective skills around “not feeling bad.” Greek philosophers called these practices “ataraxia”—living without disturbance or turmoil. Consider our default phrases. When asked how we are, we often reply, “It could be worse.” It is shorthand for a recognition that our struggle is manageable compared to past hardships, and we are grateful for the relative absence of truly terrible circumstances.
Or, we “can’t complain” because being content is often good enough.
Similarly, we tell people, “It’s another day above ground,” or “It’s better than the alternative.” While this may sound morbid, it mirrors the ancient practice of memento mori—the remembrance of mortality. Living in the light of our mortality frames our time as finite and makes the present moment precious. We deliberately put the brakes on feelings of being invulnerable, invincible, or immortal.
Then there is our new saying: “It is what it is.” This phrase represents what psychologists call “radical acceptance.” It is a reality-based acknowledgment that we are all imperfect, life has ups and downs, and “stuff” happens. We release the poisons of the soul—those unreasonable expectations that lead to bitterness, resentment, and envy.
We economize our compassion. When we are made aware of distant tragedies, we sigh, “That’s too bad.” This isn’t a lack of empathy; it is a practical conservation of emotional energy. We instinctively know our capacity for compassion is limited, so we economize our care for the people and places where we can actually do some tangible good.
When we “keep it simple,” we affirm that the simple things in life are good, true, right, and beautiful. We intentionally practice not trying so hard on things that don’t matter, not overcomplicating things, and not worrying by choosing to let things be that will work out naturally.
Chinese philosophy calls the good use of our brain brakes “Wu Wei”—not forcing situations, not trying to have power over things beyond our control, going with the flow, knowing when to back away and when to be quiet. We save our passion for the treasures in life that provide the deepest meaning: learning, accomplishments, faith, romance, love, and family. It is also the Midwestern way to receive contentment.
By Tim Walsh, M.A., L.P.; DPA, Executive Director of Beauterre
