Your Internal Broadcasting Company
by Rebecca Crichton
When I was 7 years old, I wondered whether I ever had a thought or an idea that originated in my own brain. Was there some information or opinion that wasn’t traceable to an outside source? I recognized that question as an independent thought. It was, in fact, all my own. Seven-plus decades later, I have ample proof of my capacity for independent thinking and creative cognition.
Nonetheless, I am aware of how much comes to me through the airwaves. What I listen to and watch, what I talk about and read, the conversations and presentations. I live in a constant stream of input.
I’ve named the processing of all this stimuli, my Internal Broadcasting Company—IBC. I realized its omnipresence when I heard the Prayer of Chief Seattle, set to a haunting melody, on repeat play in my brain. After singing it in choir, it took up residence in me. As the refrain, “The Earth does not belong to us. We belong to the Earth!” accompanied me through my day, I recognized I had my own playlist.
I am a heady person. When people ask what I feel about something, my response is often: “I think I feel…” Friends remind me that thinking isn’t feeling. (Do I thank them for that insight? Not as a rule.) Of course, I have feelings. It’s just that I hang out with my thoughts in the anteroom of emotion until I can let the feelings in.
My broadcasting metaphor works well as I consider the playlists and podcasts, the files and stories that I entertain and am entertained by much of the time. In no particular order, here’s a recent scan of the contents of my brain:
- The History Channel — I have a daily habit of reading last year’s journal of the same date before writing the present day’s entry. The benefits are many. Among them, sharing with my friends reminders of what they were doing a year ago. Most of my friends find it interesting. Some would just as soon not know!
As for my own historical memories. I believe that all memories are, to some extent, revisionist. Research proves that for most of us, each time we share, we might retell a memory a bit differently. We might also recount the past the same way over and over, so that the story replaces the memory. - The Food Files — I am deeply attached to the culinary. Recipes and restaurants, food apps, cookbooks, and ethnic cuisines are always on tap. I have a silent app that always ascertains the edibility of just about anything.
- The Relationship Files — People joke that I know everybody. Not true. My work connects me with a large circle of colleagues and contacts. The onion metaphor applies. My closest friends and family are in the center. The next layer is the group of the regulars – the friends I stay in regular contact with. Next layer – the people I know and like and have casual and comfortable relationships with. And so it goes…
- The Shadow Files — This large area, shrouded in a scrim of discomfort, includes the Fears, the Shoulds, the Guilts, the Griefs. Just naming them causes discomfort, requiring defensive and protective maneuvers.
- The Feel-Good Files — This region balances and resets the discomfort. They include the Joke file – While not a ‘million of ‘em,’ I hold my own with others who entertain with their jokes. Our secret: separate files for each category—lawyers and golf, rabbis and pets, politics and partners. They all have their own file.
- The Gratitude Files — When I sink into the realm of complaint and pity, I open this file. Even a moment of remembering the gifts in my life will slow the descent.
What’s your Internal Broadcasting Company airing? What are you tuning into? What files are in your brain? Where do you find yourself hanging out? What needs exploring and expunging?
My suggestion — When the vortex of our current world and the painful parts of our minds suck us in, pivot to what feels hopeful and solid. Counting our blessings might be the channel that helps maintain equilibrium and harmony.