Chatter summary

What’s easier to memorize, 800-520-6755 or 8005206755? The first, right? That’s because it’s only three pieces of information, while the second set is an unbroken string of ten. This is a classic example of how our minds can only hold three to five pieces of information at any single moment – and that’s under optimum conditions. If there’s too much chatter, our minds tend to slow down dramatically.

Our brains’ executive functions are a little like a computer. They enable us to focus on what’s relevant, tune out distractions, and direct our energy to the task at hand, whether that’s writing an email or cooking an elaborate meal. These functions kick in when instinct alone isn’t enough to drive our behavior. But, like a computer, they can only handle so much data at any one time; when we ruminate too much, we sap the neurons needed for our executive functions. You’ve experienced this if you’ve ever tried to concentrate on a book after a fight with a romantic partner. And in situations when the stakes are higher, chatter really gets in the way.

In 1841, Abraham Lincoln was having some romantic problems. Engaged to be married, he’d fallen in love with another woman. A year later, Lincoln was happily married and had moved on, but his friend Joshua Speed had fallen into the same dilemma. With some distance from his past troubles, Lincoln was easily able to give Speed advice.

That’s because getting distance from chatter is the easiest way to put it into perspective. Chatter involves zooming in – emotions raging, we single-mindedly focus on the problem. This causes us to be totally consumed, which encourages depression and anxiety to kick in. Our stress response is activated, and, seeking to resolve the crisis, we zoom in more and more. Pretty soon, we’ve lost all perspective.

In 1979, children’s television host Fred Rogers – creator of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood – wrote himself a letter. It began, “Am I kidding myself?” and continued with a stream of recriminations and doubts regarding his ability to write a good TV show. But toward the end of the letter, something funny happened. He wrote, “. . . the hour cometh and now . . . I’ve got to do it. Get to it, Fred.”

Why was Mr. Rogers speaking to himself in the third person?

In 2008, after the shootings at Northern Illinois University and Virginia Tech, University of Illinois researchers tracked how the students were coping with grief. They found that most students joined Facebook groups and shared their emotions online. While the students found such engagement comforting, it didn’t decrease their long-term depression and PTSD symptoms.

But how can this be? Aren’t we taught that sharing our emotions is healthy? Aristotle and Freud both thought so, urging people to purge themselves of their inner pain. We learn this as babies, too, when we cry and scream until our parents come and meet our needs.

In the 1990s, University of Illinois researcher Ming Kuo found that people living in Chicago housing projects had greater attention spans when their windows looked out onto green views. Their greater focus, In turn, led to more positive thinking. Later studies done in England and Canada backed up these findings, showing that exposure to green space leads to more happiness.

Why? Because nature engages our attention in a very particular way, one that draws us away from chatter and allows us to recharge.

In 1777, Franz Mesmer used what he called “animal magnetism” – a technique that involved magnets and a lot of babbling – to cure the pianist Maria Theresia von Paradis of her blindness. Or so it seemed. Mesmer was eventually outed as a fraud. The only thing his technique was really effective at was proving the power of the placebo effect.

While placebos are generally used in medicinal studies, objects imbued with power have long been a part of human tradition. Back in medieval times, it was believed that King Solomon’s seal could ward off demons, and today people are still attracted to lucky charms – Michael Jordan, for example, always wore his old college shorts underneath his uniform.