In the practice of psychiatry, we like to think we have better radar than most doctors for identifying incoherent thinking in our fellow humans. Incoherence is one of the crucial signs for potential disasters in the central nervous system-delirium, psychosis, mania, intoxication, stroke, encephalitis. And yet, now in the waning years of my career, I confess that I've practiced this skill of identifying incoherent thinking with only the vaguest definition of coherence, and no measure.
Researchers analysed three years of anonymous tracking data from passengers leaving trains on one platform. By observing how people chose between two routes around a kiosk, they found a clear pattern: many passengers copied the path taken by the person immediately ahead of them, rather than choosing independently.
Skilled fiction-writers can guide the imagination, cuing readers to use their senses so that they fantasize more richly than they could alone (Scarry 1999, 3-9). If it serves a storyteller's artistic aims, a writer can prompt readers to imagine a scene from several perspectives at once. Creative writers can accomplish this goal by blending appeals to readers' visual and somatosensory (bodily) senses.
This story is about complexity, advanced math, cognition, and machine computation. But hold on. For this exercise, my task is to take this complex idea and reduce it-to simplify it into something less daunting and (I hope) a bit easier to understand. So, let's take a step back. My bet is that most of us learned our first piece of geometry with two letters: x and y.
There's nothing like eavesdropping to show you that the world outside your head is different from the world inside your head. It doesn't get nearly enough credit. Instead of being understood as an uncouth behavior, "overhearing" should be celebrated, welcomed and pursued. It's an underrated tool in an increasingly lonely and disconnected world.
In behavioral science, identity follows action. If you're generous, you'll begin to see yourself as generous. If you're a patient person, you'll come to see that as part of who you are. Over time, the brain will wire itself to repeat these patterns.
That someone "should get out more" is usually said as a joke, a light comment aimed at someone who seems stuck or overly absorbed in a narrow concern. It can sound dismissive or even sarcastic. Yet what if it contains serious psychological truth? We often praise people for being open-minded, creative, or flexible, as if these are stable personality traits that some individuals simply possess. We admire those who seem to think differently and assume they have access to something rare.
Nobody warns you that isolation creeps up slowly. It starts with declined invitations here and there, a few unreturned texts, maybe missing another friend's birthday party. Before you know it, you're spending most weekends alone, wondering how everyone else seems to maintain these rich social lives while yours quietly emptied out. I've watched this happen to people I care about, and honestly, I've felt it happening to myself at times.
You know that feeling when you're talking to someone and something just feels... off? They're smiling, nodding, saying all the right things, but there's this invisible wall between you. I used to dismiss this gut instinct until I started paying closer attention during my interviews with hundreds of people over the years. The patterns became impossible to ignore. We've all been there, either giving or receiving these subtle signals.