Panda Bears and Potato Chips

On the constant, maddening, mental blare

Some days it’s hard to even figure out what you’re thinking about. This morning, for example, I can feel my brain cycling between college protests-Trump Trial-the new oatmeal I bought but haven’t yet tried-generalized anxiety about the state of the world-my self-satisfaction/regret at not clicking the link to read about Katie Lee Gifford’s breakup-and then back to college protests.

Now that I think of it, my thoughts always do this, as I suspect they do for most people.

The world is a distracting place. For whatever reason, our brains seem to crave constant, maddening, mental blare. Shouldn’t there be some sort of switch we can flip to turn it off now and again? Even sleep is filled with movies we’re forced to watch.

Yes, I know we’re conscious of only a small percentage of the sensory input bombarding us at any given moment, but even that small percentage is a lot. Further, the problem feels less an outside-in problem and more of a inside-inside problem. Brains just kind of churn everything around in a perpetual spin cycle. I suspect this problem is unique to humans.

Are we just victims of being too damned smart for our own good?

The ideal mental level, in my estimation, is that of a panda bear. Has there ever been an animal so satisfied with its own stupidity? If the internet has done nothing else positive, I will remain eternally grateful to it for giving us panda videos. They’re the Fatty Arbuckles of the animal kingdom. All they do is find excuses to fall down, roll around, and eat. Is there a better way to live on this planet? I think not.

(I’m aware of the charges against Fatty Arbuckle, but he was ultimately acquitted and I couldn’t use Buster Keaton or Charlie Chaplin for the above example because pandas are chubby little fuckers.)

Birds, on the other hand, seem troubled. We’ve got a birdfeeder outside our kitchen window. They birds are forever squabbling over the seed, which is more than plentiful. I like watching them, but they’re so bitchy. Which raises the question: who are the birds really upset with? You guessed it – themselves.

Insert single tear emoji.

What is the evolutionary purpose of a brain so active that it finds itself fighting itself? The obvious answer is that we wouldn’t have become Earth’s apex predator without the big brain, but I would trade, say, 30% of my mental acuity for a 80% reduction in my mental clutter.

Are dumb people happier?

Unfortunately, if the dumb people I have known are any indication, the answer seems to be, “no, not really.” If anything, dumb people seem even more stressed out. The dumbest people I’ve known are the ones quickest to anger, offense, and to suffer from all the same stuff as the rest of us, but are less able to deal with it. So I don’t even know if a 30% reduction in mental acuity would do it; if anything, it might make the problem worse.

Panda. eating potato chip! ALERT! ALERT ALERT! Panda bear eating potato chip!

Conversely, the smartest people I’ve known seem no more immune from this problem than the dumbest people, which leads me to conclude that intelligence isn’t going to solve the human condition. Probably nothing will. We’re just stuck like this.

And yes, I’ve started meditating. But in these early stages of my development, I find that my meditative skills are about as poor as most of my other skills. To be expected, of course. Meditation is a lifelong practice. Quieting the mind takes time. Even so, how am I supposed to ever shut that thing up when the mind doesn’t even know who Kathie Lee Gifford broke up with?

I wonder if the world hasn’t gotten more difficult to deal with over time? Has our technology hastened the fireworks show or have humans always experienced this problem? My guess, it’s inherent in the species. After all, meditative practices are thousands of years old, so there must have been a need, even in the ancient world, to tune out the mental blare.

Mental Blaire

All I can say is, thank God for snacks. When all else fails, we can always turn to potato chips. A little salt, a little fat… boom. Some ice cream. Maybe a slice of American cheese wrapped around a Dorito. The brain shuts right the hell up. It’s why they call it “mindless snacking.”

A massive coronary seems like a small price to pay for the satisfaction of a sated mind.

In the end, I guess, this is an appreciation post for panda bears and ultra-processed snack foods. I understand that neither will solve my problems but I can at least direct my attention to either when I need a pick-me-up. No matter how good the-new-oatmeal-I-bought-but-have-not-yet-tried-is, no matter how much satisfaction I will derive from a good old-fashioned good Trump fart in court today, pretty much no matter what, I will be left with the sturm und drang of my (our) big, smart (dumb) human brain. Hopefully, this post gave you something to think about in addition to all the other stuff you’re thinking about. Because I’m a sadist.