Changing Brains, Changing Perceptions

Or, Why I No Longer Find Jeff Lynne's Voice Cringe Worthy

Years ago, when I was a teenager, I could not bear the sound of Jeff Lynne’s voice. There was something intangible about it. To me, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I would shudder anytime I found myself in a situation when an ELO song was playing in background music, and I couldn’t get up and walk away. A song of his on the radio? I couldn’t change the station fast enough. It wasn’t that his music was unpleasant. It was specific to his voice.

This phenomenon lasted for quite some time. As the years went by, I assumed that’s simply the way I was. I didn’t like Jeff Lynne. Nothing personal. I was sure he was a lovely fellow, accomplished in his career. I wanted nothing to do with listening to it.

And, somehow, when I was expecting my first child, my brain underwent a surprising transformation. It utterly changed in this respect. I found myself loving his voice. I’d crank up the radio if I were so fortunate as to hear an ELO song. It wasn’t that it sounded different to my ears. I realized it was an internal change in perception. How my brain interpreted his voice radically - and so far - permanently changed. From that time to now, there is a resonance that I feel in my brain when I hear his voice that is simply delightful. Again, it’s not the music. It’s his voice.

For years after that experience, I chalked it up to something to do with pregnancy. Hormones, surely. An oddity that might never be explained. I didn’t really concern myself with it, and I didn’t experience anything quite like it with my other children. That is, until the last few years, when my proprioception expanded. I found myself noticing sounds and experiences all around me. I no longer filtered out birds and bugs and airplanes overhead. I felt so connected to the sensory experience of my own environment. Internally, it was the same sensation as when my brain started loving Jeff Lynne.

I discovered that my reticular activating system inside my brain was no longer filtering out much of the information from my senses. It wasn’t diffusing “unnecessary” or “unpleasant” sensations. I had heard about this part of the brain more than ten years prior. But, I didn’t really think about it other than as a passing curiosity. I didn’t try to change my brain, or my perceptions. At this point, I’m not sure if it’s maturity or aging or some other process. I do know that I love how my brain has changed over the years.

I love that I notice the sounds of the insects buzzing first thing in the morning. I love that I can now tell the difference between a Cessna Grand Caravan and a Piper just from their engines. I appreciate watching the mourning doves soar with the kites when I have my morning coffee. However, the most delightful experience is the internal feeling in how my brain has changed.

If this is a consequence of something I have done differently, I’d love to develop the ability to share it. If it’s simply part of getting older, then I want to share that, too. The idea that the sensory experience of the world can get better is something to celebrate. We don’t only face the possibility of loss as our brains age. Sometimes, something wonderful can happen, too.