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iamomThis morning, I learned that we humans experience the present moment through the means of our memory. We have three types of memory, each referred to in terms of their function and storage capacity over time.
So, I would imagine the process goes something like this: A sensory input (e.g. a traffic light turns red) is imprinted into our immediate sensory memory (i.e. the light refracts through our eye and triggers a series of electrical impulses to our brain). Our short-term memory takes the data transmitted from the input (e.g. those specific impulses fired through the optic nerve from our eye) and processes them for interpretation. If they match something in our long-term memory store (e.g. we remember that when the light turns red, we have to stop the car), then we can act accordingly. Therefore, our actions and our thoughts are made up of a combination of sensory input and long-term recall, all brought down into our conscious, short-term memory store (that 15-second window).
At this point in this morning's lecture, the processor went on to describe in more detail how these various parts interact in order to generate our ongoing conscious awareness, actions, etc., but my own attention started to wander. I thought to myself, "The present moment, then, is a physiological event in our brains. It is the immediate and ongoing processing of our sensory impressions in a moving, 10- to 15-second-long window over time. With the appropriate imaging technology, we could probably observe the present moment being played out in each person by watching the firing of specific neural impulses in specific areas of the brain."
Several questions arose for me that I wanted to ask the professor. What really is that moment, then? We're all sitting here, experiencing the present moment together, but is it the same moment? How does your moment compare with my moment, or with theirs? If you've suffered from sensory damage and cannot perceive your environment, does that mean that you're not experiencing any more moments? If you're unconscious or you're not awake, what's happening to your underlying consciousness? Anything? Does it get suspended if your brain isn't processing the requisite sensory impressions?
Of course, the questions themselves aren't very meaningful. They came up, and then they disappeared like leaves blowing off a tree. They did sort of demystify the present moment for me, though. We all get pretty excited about 'experiencing the present moment,' don't we? That doesn't even really mean anything in this context. There is no 'moment' -- it's nothing more than a neurophysiological event in our brains.
Isn't it?
- sensory store (sensorial memory): the immediate storage of all sensory input present, for immediate processing by our own attention. Its capacity is limitless (anything and everything that is perceived by us is stored), but the data can be stored for no longer than 3 seconds.
- short-term store (short-term memory, or STM): aka working memory or conscious memory, this is what you are actually conscious of at any given time. Through the attention to, and processing of sensory input, we develop an immediate understanding of what our senses are telling us. Its capacity for most people is 7 plus-or-minus 2 pieces of discrete information at any given time, and the results can be stored for up to 15 seconds in certain individuals without rehearsal.
- long-term store (long-term memory, or LTM): Information from our short-term memory store is encoded into LTM data through repetition or other means of rehearsal or strategic classification. Our ability to recall memories or events over the long term is dependent on how clearly the memories were encoded from STM, in conjunction with how well we can locate and retrieve the encoded memories in LTM to bring them back into our conscious memory (i.e. back to STM). LTM's capacity is enormous, and data may be stored there for as long as a whole lifetime.
So, I would imagine the process goes something like this: A sensory input (e.g. a traffic light turns red) is imprinted into our immediate sensory memory (i.e. the light refracts through our eye and triggers a series of electrical impulses to our brain). Our short-term memory takes the data transmitted from the input (e.g. those specific impulses fired through the optic nerve from our eye) and processes them for interpretation. If they match something in our long-term memory store (e.g. we remember that when the light turns red, we have to stop the car), then we can act accordingly. Therefore, our actions and our thoughts are made up of a combination of sensory input and long-term recall, all brought down into our conscious, short-term memory store (that 15-second window).
At this point in this morning's lecture, the processor went on to describe in more detail how these various parts interact in order to generate our ongoing conscious awareness, actions, etc., but my own attention started to wander. I thought to myself, "The present moment, then, is a physiological event in our brains. It is the immediate and ongoing processing of our sensory impressions in a moving, 10- to 15-second-long window over time. With the appropriate imaging technology, we could probably observe the present moment being played out in each person by watching the firing of specific neural impulses in specific areas of the brain."
Several questions arose for me that I wanted to ask the professor. What really is that moment, then? We're all sitting here, experiencing the present moment together, but is it the same moment? How does your moment compare with my moment, or with theirs? If you've suffered from sensory damage and cannot perceive your environment, does that mean that you're not experiencing any more moments? If you're unconscious or you're not awake, what's happening to your underlying consciousness? Anything? Does it get suspended if your brain isn't processing the requisite sensory impressions?
Of course, the questions themselves aren't very meaningful. They came up, and then they disappeared like leaves blowing off a tree. They did sort of demystify the present moment for me, though. We all get pretty excited about 'experiencing the present moment,' don't we? That doesn't even really mean anything in this context. There is no 'moment' -- it's nothing more than a neurophysiological event in our brains.
Isn't it?
