The Hippocampus and Memory

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Go read this bit about the Hippocampus and Memory at Wikipedia and then come back here.

I’ve long known about the way that the Hippocampus in London taxi cab drivers is always larger (up to 40% larger) than in regular people, because of the intense work they have to do to memorize the London street scene.  The London Knowledge is apparently the most sophisticated and complex set of information about urban navigation in the world, with most would-be taxi cab drivers sitting for the examination no fewer than 12 times after almost three years of preparation.

But this is why Palace of Memory works, of course.  If you build an artificial place in your memory that you navigate, then of course you’re hardwiring memories that you want to create artificially to the structure of a place which you’re navigating.  It doesn’t matter that you’re not ACTUALLY navigating it; it only matters that you’re navigating.  And that means that you’re making a neural map of imaginary places that contain data.  You’re building a database that involves the left and right brains and the hippocampus in storing information. The key then becomes, what information do you want to store? And what imaginary map of imaginary places do you want to store it in?

Returning to the Palace of Memory

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Just before Thanksgiving break, my students and one of my colleagues organized a little playful program for our seventh grade.  Now, our whole seventh grade is in fact about the size of some of my colleagues’ individual sections in a public school.  And we only went around once — so no kid had to memorize more than one thing per person.

You’ve played this game before, or a variant of it: So each kid was going to a Thanksgiving dinner, and each was going to bring… 

A – apple sauce; B – butternut squash; C – cheese; D – dry ice;
E – eggplant parmesan; F – feta cheese; G – ____ ;
H – Hillshire Farms meats; I – ice; J – juice ; K – kangaroo;
L – lemons; M – macaroni and cheese ; N – Neapolitan ice cream;
O – ostrich; P – partridge ; Q – quail; R – roadkill ; S – stuffing ;
T – Turkey; U – uncooked Turkey; V – vegetables; W – water;
X – xylophone-themed cupcakes; Y – yams; and Z – zebra.

OK.  Two months later, I can remember all but one item on this particular list.  You can see that I missed the item in letter G. I can remember who said feta cheese, too, and who said “hillshire farms meats”… but not who was sitting between them.

There’s a hiccup here… and it’s because the palace of memory here was awkwardly constructed, on the fly, using the combination of letters, and the people’s names.  I can tell you who said most of the items in this list, and yet there are TWO people sitting between F and H in the circle — one who opted out of the game, who I can remember, and one whom I can’t remember.  (I also know that my own memories of Thanksgiving are trying to intrude on the list — ‘gourds’ wants to fill that place, and so does ‘garnish’, but neither of those is right, of course).

This is not bad, if the goal is memory improvement.  If the goal is to retain useful and important data, though, it’s not so useful.  But it turns out that most of us carry around the ability to make an alphabetical list, as a result of all those alphabet books we read as kids.  Is there a way to adapt this to children, to teach them how to use a Palace of Memory from a very young age?  And then how do we teach them to expand the palace as they get older, to include more complex concepts like number and timeline and locations on the globe?

The ancients used a system which Frances Yates tried to reconstruct in her book, The Palace of Memory, which I’m reading and enjoying (although it’s rather dry).  And Jonathan Spence in his book, the Palace of Memory of Matteo Ricci, also tried to reconstruct what it would be like to walk around in the palace of an 16th century Jesuit priest in China.  I’ve also just learned of this book, Memorize the Faith, which use the outline of the memory palace of Thomas Aquinas to teach the Christian gospels.

It seems to me that although my library chamber is a useful place to begin to create the places and things necessary to an effective memory palace, the real value of the system has to come from having an overarching theme of framework for the structure of the memories to be held.  This suggests short scripts or training podcasts, that guide you around small sections of the room(s) at first, and then gradually fill in various details.

One thing the ancients worried about, which I think we don’t have to worry about, is imagining spaces to be static and unchanging, with nothing closer together than thirty feet or so.  I think we can closely cram things together, and we can also have movies or tape loops playing in various places in our minds…

More on this after my plane flight today, or perhaps tomorrow.  It’s on my mind how to teach kids to build an effective memory palace, and my first efforts were good, but inadequate.  Read more, research more, practice more memory-building techniques.  Of course.

Sonnet: Heron & Osprey

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A heron wades between dark mangrove isles,
while the tidal wash swirls around his thighs.
At sign unseen, he hides among thick stiles;
green leaves and dangling stalks make fine disguise.
Over there, osprey circles wide and low,
hunting fish scales gleaming below water.
How can he hover, his wings beating slow,
except by design of his Creator,
and evolution?  Those two divine plans,
one a set patten, and one, constant change,
have underwritten everything that man’s
achieved in this Earth.  In all I arrange,
I see these two in a loving tension —
pattern and motion in interaction.

Encomium: to Ganesha

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An encomium is a piece of writing dedicated to, and celebrating, some person.  It’s not a form of worship, exactly, but an acknowledgement of a being’s particular excellence and dignity.  This poem is intended to be an encomium to Ganesh, the elephant-headed remover of obstacles from Hinduism.  I wrote it today, inspired in part by one of the recommended posts on Jack’s blog. Jack is a new subscribed reader, and this seemed like a good way to connect my goal of being more consciously magical, and more frequently poetical.

Elephant-headed, most serene, divine,
patron of words, and intellect and art:
Ganesha obstacle-remover, deign
to break bonds, and drive barriers apart.
By noose and goad and broken tusk and sweet,
Lord of Categories, you are revered;
Your hands make oblation; your dancing feet
ride upon the mouse — your chariot, long-eared.
You put stumbling blocks before the proud
who plan out evil, and so must be checked.
But well do you love those who live out loud:
these with garlands of wonders stand bedecked.
Ganesha, grant me these marvels to share —
hurdles pulled back and a race without care.

Ok, not my best effort.  Ganesha is not one of my personal cloud of witnesses, so it may be that I’m not channeling this quite right and getting a clear sense of what he’s about or how to approach him.  I do hope it’s useful to someone, though.

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