The Verdict: No One is Lazy


A jury wouldn’t find someone guilty of laziness because that’s a perception, not a fact.

Suppose a young man, James Littleton, is accused of being lazy, and it’s his day in court. The prosecution and defense are each going to have their turn to present their case, and then the jury will reach a verdict.

But guess what? The prosecution has no chance of winning a conviction. That’s because laziness is only a perception: Someone else deems that another person has not demonstrated the same level of work ethic or commitment to (whatever) the accuser believes is “appropriate.”

However, perception and fact are not the same.  Not only are there varying interpretations as to what constitutes enough work (so that someone is not viewed as “lazy”), but there are other variables that aren’t even likely considered when people pass such judgment.

Namely, people with incomplete lower brain development are always working much, much harder than what the rest of us can know. That’s because we can’t see how their brains are working overtime to compensate for one or more missing automatic brain functions.

People’s motivation to perform is also often linked to what they believe to be important. Here, it may be as simple as someone doesn’t share the same degree of interest as the person “accusing” him or her of being lazy and, therefore, puts forth less effort.

Or, perhaps the accuser doesn’t know how to motivate others to do more. For example, there are some people who are never satisfied with any outcome (they’re always critical—no matter what work has already been completed). In such case, those who interact with these individuals often conclude, “Why bother to even show any effort?”

Yet, people keep tagging others as “lazy” as though none of these variables ever come into play.

That’s why the case against James Littleton has no merit. The prosecution cannot prove (let alone beyond a shadow of a doubt) that he—or anyone else—is guilty of being lazy. We simply cannot convict others based on our own perceptions.

Note that this line of thinking applies to other accusations, as well. For example, annoying is just as much of a perception as lazy. Yes, some people may act in a way that’s not in sync with others’ expectations or desires—but that doesn’t mean those people are annoying.

Interestingly, there are those who continue to tangle perceptions with fact and insist that people truly are lazy, annoying, manipulative (the list goes on).  So why might that be?

Well, when we label people with such undesirable terms, we cleverly shift the spotlight away from ourselves and now inadvertently shine it on everyone else. In other words, we believe it’s up to the other person to change.  However, so long as we’re waiting for someone else to transform, we’re not likely to move forward.

So, since our perceptions are intricately linked to our actions, we may need to first ask ourselves: Are we making accusations about others . . . that would never hold up in court?

And if we’re the ones being accused, we may want to remind ourselves of the big difference between perception and fact—and that other people’s opinions do not really render us guilty of anything. In fact, we can throw their case out of court any time we choose.

Extinguishing Fear from the Brain


The brain cannot distinguish between a real or perceived threat.

Fear is an emotion, triggered by a perceived threat.  But since our brain is wired to respond to danger, a cascade of physiological reactions also takes place in the body. Such changes are intended to help us fight or flee the threat.

So what actually happens?  Well, our hypothalamus initiates a fight-or-flight response by activating our sympathetic nervous system. It also alerts our pituitary gland to trigger the adrenal-cortical system.

Once the sympathetic nervous system is activated, our body becomes very tense and alert. Once the adrenal-cortical system is triggered, it releases about 30 different hormones to prepare the body to handle the threat.

As a result of these two systems in action, our heart rate, blood pressure, red blood cells, perspiration, and glucose all increase. Our veins constrict. Our muscles tense. The pupils of our eyes dilate. Nonessential systems (to the threat) such as digestion and the immune system shut down.

Now, having this kind of automatic, innate response to a threat is great  . . . if true danger is really imminent.

But unfortunately, the brain does not automatically distinguish between the fear triggered from seeing a coiled rattlesnake or hearing an intruder breaking into our home from the fear triggered by thinking it’s the principal calling (once again) to complain about our child or that we’re going to mess up the presentation in front of the management team.  Yep, it’s the same physiological chain reaction for anything we fear.

Of course, since the last two examples are more reflective of what’s likely to pop up in our daily lives than the first two, we start to think: Just how many times a day is our body in this reactive fear state? And, if so, then how might this affect our overall physical health, as well as our cognitive abilities?

Well, it turns out that repeated fear reactions often result in high levels of cortisol. High levels of cortisol affect sleep, memory, metabolism, bones, muscles, blood sugar, blood pressure, and digestion, Additionally, too much cortisol decreases the rate that lymphocytes multiply, which then leaves the body deficient in immune cells and more vulnerable to bacteria and viruses.

Yikes—the long-term effects of being fearful may actually warrant more concern that whatever triggered such responses in the first place.

But guess what? We don’t have to have a fear-trigger brain that perceives daily life as one big, continual threat.  Sure, we want to rely on this incredible response for times of true danger, but those times are going to be rare, not daily occurrences.

So here are some suggestions to put the brakes on knee-jerk fear-based reactions, as well as a long-term suggestion that makes it much easier for the brain to react to only true danger.

1.  Live in the present.

Fear is always related to something we only think is going to happen in the future. Yet, we often react in the present (become fearful) as though we’re suddenly clairvoyant and know what’s going to happen.

So, considering there are 168 hours in a week, calculate how many of those hours you spent last week preoccupied with whatever you feared.  Then calculate how much time during the week your fear actually materialized. Do you think you’ll discover that you spent far more time anticipating the worst-case scenario than the actual time spent dealing with the fear—if it even happened at all?  (And if so, you clearly survived—or you wouldn’t be reading this blog post!)

2.  Pause and breathe.

As simple as it sounds, just pausing and taking a few deep breaths are often enough to circumvent the whole physiological response to fear. That’s because in those few seconds you pause, your brain gets a chance to determine whether there’s truly a threat—and if not, it can send a message to the part of the brain called the amygdala that says, “Nope. No danger. No need to activate the fight-or-flight response.”

3.  Replace a fearful thought with a grateful one.

Honestly, it’s impossible to be grateful and fearful at the same time.

4.  Go exercise.

Instead of dwelling on a fearful thought, go for a run or walk. Turn on the music and dance.  Lift some weights.

5.  Give yourself some proprioceptive stimuli.

Proprioceptive movements, such as pushing, pulling, pressing, and squeezing (think how we instinctively grab and squeeze someone’s hand when we’re frightened) are actually calming. Similarly, the kind of proprioceptive stimuli we receive while engaging in a pillow fight or hitting a punching bag or getting a deep pressure massage—are also helpful in reducing stress.

6.  Develop lower centers of the brain. 

There’s no getting around it: If our lower centers of the brain are not fully developed, we greatly increase our chances of being in fight-or-flight mode much of our lives. Consequently, we suffer both the related physiological effects of such reactions, in addition to other problems that are related to incomplete lower brain development.

Yes, it would be great if the brain had an automatic sensor that always verified genuine threats (and therefore, only set off that physiological chain reaction in times of true danger). But still, that doesn’t mean we have to throw our hands in the air and concede to a life of fear.   We truly can opt to extinguish daily fear from our lives.

After all, is dwelling on what might happen in the future—noting that what we dread may never even materialize—worth all the toil and adverse physiological effects on our body that accompany fear? Maybe that sobering thought is enough to change how we think and respond.

How Well Do You Know Your Brain?


A stressed brain is not a happy brain.

We’re not like the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, who went searching for a brain. But, in truth, most of us have no idea whether our brain is functioning optimally or not.

For example, are we off to work each day, interacting with family members, studying for a master’s degree, struggling with either mental or physical health problems—and more—with retained primitive reflexes, incomplete pons and midbrain development, and poor sensory processing?

If so, our brain is working way harder than was ever intended.  That’s because during the first year of life, we were supposed to lay down the neural networks that create what could be considered the ground floor of brain organization.

But what if that didn’t happen—which these days is very common since we have inadvertently messed with natural brain organization over the past 50 years. Then, we were left to build the higher centers of the brain on a foundation that is more like quicksand than cement.

That’s why I’m proposing to make 2013 the Year of the Lower Brain, where everyone now decides to know, with certainty, whether their ground floor of brain organization is solid or not.

But how do we do that?  Well, here are some simple ways to get started.

Adults can complete the Adult Brain Organization Checklist to get a sense of their lower brain development. Note that a score of 10 or higher suggests the cortex is working way too hard to compensate for missing automatic lower brain functions. The higher the number is past 10, the greater probability of incomplete lower brain development.

To assess kids, parents can do this online screening.  Again, a score of 10 or more suggests that the lower centers of the brain are significantly underdeveloped.

But what if we want more conclusive proof than a subjective score? In such case, we may decide to take a nine-week online screening course that teaches us how to facilitate a hands-on lower brain assessment, as well as how to use those results to improve daily life.

What if we’re wondering whether incomplete lower brain development might be connected to a myriad of diagnoses (e.g. autism, Attention Deficient Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, etc)? Then, we may be interested in reading “A Lower Brain Connection?”  to learn more.

Note that the hum and buzz in my proposed Year of the Lower Brain is different. For example, chit chat around the water cooler now includes talk about who’s developing their pons and midbrain or who’s improving their neural networks, much in the same way that coworkers might be causally talking about working out in the gym last night.

In other words, 50 years ago we thought that just people who were overweight or out of shape might need to exercise. But today, our fitness consciousness has shifted to where we “get” that everyone—including the athlete who is already in incredible shape—benefits from exercising.

So in the Year of the Lower Brain, I’m hoping that we also shift our consciousness to understand that each of us can maximize our brain efficiency. Brain organization now becomes “cool”—not something that we hide from others or think is only for those who are blatantly struggling.

In the Year of the Lower Brain, we now also challenge stress as something we should expect in our lives.  For example, it used to be that when people were asked how they were doing, they at least faked, “Good,” as their answer. But these days, ask someone, “How are you?” and more times than not, the person responds, “I’m so stressed” –as though being drained has now become the acceptable default state of mind.

But stress doesn’t dominate a well-organized brain.

So, get to know your brain.  Discover if it’s working harder than intended. That’s really a small investment of time for information that may ultimately transform your life.

Why Interrupting Isn’t Rude


Interrupting is often linked to a disorganized brain.

Interrupting actually makes sense when we understand what goes on in a person’s brain if he or she has incomplete lower brain development.

Namely, such people’s cortex is already preoccupied with seeking ways to compensate for automatic brain functions that we’d ordinarily acquire if that development were complete.  But it’s not, so such people end up with what we call a disorganized brain, where some parts aren’t doing their job while other parts are trying to pick up the slack.

With all that chaos going on, working memory is going to be impaired—which then specifically explains why someone with incomplete lower brain development may be prone to interrupting.

That’s because working memory is an active part of our memory system. It helps us keep information in mind while engaged in something else—and that requires a little memory juggling.  But recall, a person with incomplete lower brain development is already juggling a lot as a result of having a disorganized brain.

And whether or not a person realizes he or she has incomplete lower brain development (and therefore has less working memory “bandwidth”), he or she knows, via experience, thoughts are often lost if not shared immediately. That knowledge is then compounded by an on-going angst that’s also common among those with incomplete lower brain development.  In other words, not only do they know such thoughts will be gone, but they also start to feel anxious if they have to wait to speak.

So what’s the quickest way for such people to keep a thought and forego the angst? Interrupt!  Yet, that’s not really a great plan since such action ultimately ends up irritating and annoying others.

But instead of getting upset with people we view as chronic interrupters, maybe we alter what we do, rather than hope they’ll just suddenly change. With that mindset, here are some ideas.

  1. We don’t give speeches or tell long stories or give lengthy directions.  Instead, we say no more than a sentence or two, and then we pause.  In other words, we create openings for those who have difficulty keeping thoughts in working memory so they can now jump in without interrupting.
  1. We establish when someone can and cannot interrupt us. For example, when interacting with kids, we create a list (laced with humor) to underscore that only extreme emergencies warrant an interruption during specific times.  Such a list may be: You can interrupt me if your pants are on fire, if there is a boa constrictor in the room, or aliens are about to abduct you.  For everything else, you must wait.
  1. We might additionally help such kids by adding a visual or tactile cue that reminds them when they cannot interrupt. For example, we may wear an outrageous hat that signifies no one can approach us so long as we have that hat on. Something like that works well when teachers are interacting with a group of students in one part of the room and do not want to be interrupted by those working at their seat. Or, we can establish that someone only speaks if he or she is holding a special stone when people are offering ideas during a discussion.
  1. We teach people simple proprioceptive movements they might do while waiting to speak since such stimuli is calming (and, therefore, reduces any potential angst that may surface when waiting to speak). Such actions may include squeezing hands, crossing arms and pressing the hands on thighs, and interlacing fingers and pushing them down on top of the head.
  1. We can teach people to write (or draw a picture of) the thought they’re holding. That not only helps them remember what they wanted to say, but it also gives them something to do while waiting.

With the above in mind, here’s something to ponder. If the dictionary defines rude as “showing no respect or consideration,” maybe—just maybe—we’re the ones being rude if we don’t initiate simple actions that clearly help people with a disorganized brain.


How Apologies Reflect Brain Organization


Does your apology move the situation forward?

Everyone messes up.  But not everyone apologizes in the same way—or even apologizes at all.

Interestingly, we can glean information about a person’s brain organization by how he or she responds after making a mistake or doing something that adversely affects others.

So, what’s a cortex response to an error?

  • We immediately note whatever mistake we made or whatever problems we caused.
  • We take full responsibility, without shifting the focus elsewhere.
  • We don’t offer excuses, explanations, or rationalization for our behavior.
  • We acknowledge how our actions adversely affected others.
  • We write or verbalize an apology.
  • We ask what we may do to help rectify whatever problems we caused.
  • We share what we’ll do in the future so that we don’t repeat the same mistake.

How might that play out in daily life? Well, let’s suppose we’re 30 minutes late to a family dinner.

If we stay in our cortex and follow the above guidelines, we immediately address the fact that we were late (rather than breeze in as though we were on time and hope no one notices).

We do not mention that the sitter was late or there was unexpected traffic or any other reason that may have caused us to be late.  After all, none of those reasons ultimately change the fact that others still had to wait for us.

Instead, we dive right in with an acknowledgment that addresses how others were affected by our tardiness and then ask how we may rectify the situation.

Here, we might say something such as, “I totally understand how everyone must be feeling irritated that we’ve arrived so late, especially since the food now is probably getting cold. We apologize for any inconvenience we may have caused, and we do thank you for your patience. Is there something we can do—like heat up the food or something else—to help get dinner back on track?”

We also share what we’ll do differently in the future. “Just to let you know, we plan to allow ourselves a much bigger window for getting ready and arriving somewhere on time in the future.”

In contrast, here’s what we may do if we’re late for a family dinner, and we respond with our lower centers of the brain.

We never mention that we’re late, but then get defensive when another family member says something about it. (You try getting out the house on time with two small kids! It’s not like you’re always on time!)

We blame someone else. (You didn’t tell me the right time. You shouldn’t have made dinner so early. Sam’s teacher called just as we were walking out the door.)

We minimize being late. (It’s not that big of a deal. So the food is a little cold.  We’re not actually that late.)

We become a victim. (Everyone is always on my case. You have no idea how hard my life is. I get it– I’m the black sheep of the family.)

We actually never say we’re sorry, or we do so in a way that doesn’t sound sincere.

Or, we say we’re sorry without putting a period after that thought. For example, we say, “We’re sorry, but” (and then we finish the sentence with a justification). However, the second half of the sentence now negates the first part . . .  that included the actual apology.

And since we don’t see the bigger picture when we’re operating from the lower centers of the brain, we never ask how we may rectify whatever transpired as the result of our actions. In fact, we seem oblivious that we even inconvenienced others or that they will now have to pick up the slack.  It’s more of an “oh, well” kind of shrug and a “let’s drop it” sooner-than-later kind of attitude.

So what ultimately happens when we respond with our lower brain instead of our cortex? An already bad situation just gets worse.

But if cortex responses are actually more helpful, then why don’t we always respond that way? Well, that’s where our own brain organization comes into play.

If our lower centers of the brain are fully developed, we have a much greater chance of staying in our cortex and responding in kind.  On the other hand, if we have incomplete lower brain development, we’re more likely to go into a fight or flight mode as soon as we’re placed in an uncomfortable situation.

So the next time we’re apologizing, we can choose to pause and ask ourselves: Where is this apology coming from . . . my cortex or my lower centers of the brain? If we realize it’s the latter, we might just quit talking—right then and there—until we’re sure that we’re responding with our cortex.

And if we do that, everyone, including ourselves, will be very glad we did so.


Do You Know What Your Child Thinks?


We can’t assume to know what kids are thinking.

I recently came across a story that underscores how kids often see the world with very different eyes than adults.  Here’s the story.

A little girl was in desperate need of a blood donor, but there was none to be found. As a last resort, the doctors checked her 6-year-old brother—and he was a match!

So the parents and the doctor set the boy down and explained how he could help save his sister so that she wouldn’t die. He just needed to give her his blood.

However, the little boy asked if he could have some time to think about it.  His parents were surprised by the response, but they honored his request to ponder the decision.

The next day, the little boy informed everyone that he agreed to give his sister what she needed.

The hospital staff moved quickly. His sister’s rare blood disorder was at a critical stage, so they could not waste any time.

The medical team put the little boy in a bed next to his sister. As soon as the transfusion began, everyone was thrilled for the little girl.

But a few minutes later, the little boy turned to the doctor and in a quiet voice asked, “How long before I die?”

Yes, the little boy thought that if he gave his blood to his sister, she would live—but he would then die. That’s why he needed some time to think about his decision.

As parents or professionals who work with kids, what can we glean from this story?  Namely, we may need to probe a little in order to discover what kids are truly thinking. We can’t assume that our vantage of the world is the same as theirs.

In the above story, the parents or doctors could have responded as follows when the little boy did not immediately say he’d be a blood donor. “We absolutely respect your decision to give us an answer later, but we’re curious . . . why might you want more time?”

If they had asked that question, right then, everyone would have known that the little boy had misunderstood his role as a donor.

But it doesn’t have to be something as dramatic as the misunderstanding in that story.

At the Brain Highways Center, parents often share their concerns about a behavior specific to their child. For example, they may say that they’re worried that their son is antisocial since he always wanders from the guests at a party and then spends the rest of the time off by himself.

I then always ask, “What does your child say when you ask why he does that?”

To date, I don’t think I’ve ever had a parent respond to that specific question—no matter what concern they have just shared. Instead, they give me a blank look and then note that they have no idea.

In other words, the parents have never asked their child what he or she may be thinking or needing when doing a particular behavior.

Yet, when we do ask the child, more times than not, he or she has a very explicit reason for the behavior which then, more times than not, wipes away a lot of the parents’ initial concern about the situation.

Sometimes, we discover that the child isn’t even aware that he’s doing the behavior of concern or, if he is aware, he does not view it as problematic. Regardless of whatever information the child shares, the parents or professionals now have new insights on how to best move forward.

Note that this gentle probing is not the same as asking a question in a prosecutorial way, where the child thinks he’s being drilled.  Rather, this information-seeking approach is always done with a true sense of curiosity that has no judgment attached to the answer.

So, talk to kids.  Learn how they’re viewing the world.  Their answers may surprise you more than once.

Signs of Adults with Incomplete Lower Brain Development


Road rage may actually indicate incomplete lower brain development.

Kids aren’t the only ones who may be functioning with retained primitive reflexes, incomplete pons and midbrain development, and poor sensory processing. There are a lot of adults out there with such underdevelopment—yet most have no clue that they’re even compensating.

That’s because adults often compensate in more subtle and clever ways than kids.

For example, a child with an underdeveloped pons may do something overt—like crawl under a table or hide behind Mom—when he’s in the flight mode, whereas an adult may just quit the minute she’s feeling uncomfortable or rattle off a million excuses why she can’t do (whatever).  Yet, it’s very possible that adults who give up quickly and always have excuses for bailing are also doing “flight” behavior that’s reflective of an underdeveloped pons.

So, what might be other not-so-obvious examples of adult behaviors that could actually be signs of or compensations for incomplete lower brain development?

Road Rage

Road rage is an over-the-top, distorted reaction to a stranger’s way of driving, noting that distorted thinking is a common red flag for incomplete pons development.

For example, the extreme reactions associated with road rage suggest that whatever the stranger did was personal— that it was intentionally directed at the person experiencing the rage. However, in truth, the “offender” doesn’t even know any of the people in the cars around him.

Likewise, hostile reactions to drivers perceived as annoying or unsafe on the road are also distorted.  Not only are such reactions disproportionate to whatever happened (i.e. the person is not just mildly annoyed—he’s furious), but nothing positive is ever gained by such distorted responses.

Namely, the absent-minded, clueless driver does not then become a better driver after an aggressive exchange. Similarly, the driver who believes his safety was threatened by another driver’s poor decision actually only jeopardizes everyone else’s safety by responding antagonistically. In fact, road rage reactions increase the possibility that the recipient will now also respond in kind.

Distorted Hearing

If the lower centers of the brain are not fully developed, yes people hear words, but they don’t always process the actual message that was conveyed.  For example, a teacher may tell a parent that her child has not turned in three assignments. But the parent may incorrectly processes that communication as, “You said I’m a bad parent.” In such case, the parent now responds to the perceived accusation, rather than focusing on the missing assignments. Or, a husband may offer to pick up a salad for his wife, whereupon she responds, “I can’t believe you just called me fat!”

Note that it’s useless to correct these misinterpreted messages because these individuals will only become more defensive, insisting that what they heard was, in fact, what was said.


While it can be generally difficult to forgive, it’s especially challenging with an underdeveloped midbrain. That’s because a person with such underdevelopment gets “stuck” on a thought and then, consequently, is not able to let it go. So whatever the offender did that was deemed unforgivable just keeps playing over and over in the midbrain-stuck person’s mind.

Repeated Assurance

When the pons is underdeveloped, people often have distorted angst.  Not only do such people experience anxiety regularly, but the subject of their fear is also often something that makes the rest of the world goes, “Huh?”  In other words, such people are worried about something that most people have little or no concern about.

But if the pons remains underdeveloped, that anguish never goes away. So such adults need and ask for lots of assurance regarding their concerns.

Yet, such assurance is always fleeting—at best. Since the pons keeps triggering the distorted angst, the person keeps needing and asking for more assurance. This can happen even just a few minutes after the initial reassurance is given.


Some adults may use perfectionism as a cover for distorted angst, which (again) is reflective of an underdeveloped pons.  For example, suppose an adult likes to have rolls of toilet paper all lined up neatly in a row.  Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with that preference. But what if someone now slightly moves one of those rolls out of the line? Does that perfectionist immediately experience some angst? Does she feel a strong need to put that roll of toilet paper right back in the line?


A person with an underdeveloped pons may experience anxiety as soon as she starts to think she won’t remember what she wants to say—so she cuts right into the conversation. That way, she won’t lose the thought.

Similarly, a person with an underdeveloped midbrain is prone to being impulsive, so she may just blurt out her thought, rather than wait for the other person to finish speaking.


Appearing to be inflexible and rigid to others may actually be more related to a fear of functioning without lower brain compensations in place.

For example, suppose someone is blind, and he has created his home in such a way that makes it very easy for him to get around. But what if someone now wants to re-arrange all the furniture? While that simple change may not affect others, it’s certainly going to make his life a whole lot more difficult. Not surprisingly, he may resist making those changes.

People may also appear to be unbending when they won’t consider replacing a prior way of doing something with a new approach—even when the latter actually serves them better. Here, an underdeveloped midbrain makes it difficult for such people to shift gears and move in a different direction.

Victim Mentality

When the lower centers of the brain are underdeveloped, people don’t always have access to the cortex—yet that’s where reflection occurs.

But without reflection, such people cannot consider how they may have also contributed to an undesirable situation. Instead, they quickly blame everyone else for whatever happened.

Such people also often believe they’ve been unjustly “wronged” when they expected others to do something to make their life easier (i.e. help them compensate in some way)—and that didn’t happen.  For example, they may have expected others to make an exception to an agreement (even though they signed the contract) or extend a deadline (after they missed it) or present information in a format that differs from what’s offered (since they’re having difficulty processing the materials).

But since these people have no awareness that such expectations are reflective of needing compensations to help their own brain profile, they often believe the person who does not comply then “hates” them or is “out to get them,” thereby escalating the distortion and victim mentality even more.


When the pons is underdeveloped, people often have limited peripheral vision. In such case, their world is literally that which is directly in front of them.  But this can also transfer to viewing life, in general, through a narrow lens—where people appear to act as though they’re the only ones who exist,

Tunnel-vision also happens if the midbrain is underdeveloped. Here, people experience difficulty in seeing the “bigger picture” whenever involved in or assessing a situation.  So, they’ll get distracted by lots of details— many of which are unimportant—as they expend a tremendous amount of energy spinning in directions that ultimately do nothing to move the current situation forward.

Excessive Questions

If the midbrain isn’t fully developed, people don’t often process speech at the rate it is spoken.  So, to slow down communications—especially in a lecture-type format—a person may ask questions throughout a presentation.  Doing so then temporarily stops the flow of information, while making that person look as though he is very interested in the topic (rather than someone who needs to compensate for incomplete lower brain development).

Of course, if that person views his on-going questioning as confirmation that he’s more savvy and tuned-in than the rest of the group, that’s also distorted. Such thinking infers that other people don’t have questions or want to know more. It also does not take into account that most people wait to see whether their question will be answered later in the presentation or after they’ve checked materials they’ve already received.

People with incomplete lower brain development may also repeat the same questions because they’re not always able to access information that has been previously stored. When they don’t remember what they’ve already learned, they have to ask the question again . . . and again . . . and again.

Out-of-Bounds Behavior

When people have poor proprioception, they don’t have an innate sense of spatial boundaries in relation to other people and objects. Interestingly, that lack of awareness sometimes transfers beyond physical boundaries. In such case, people may act in ways that are viewed as out-of-bounds by others. For example, they may share sensitive information that they should have kept private, or they create a scene in public. Yet, they do such actions without any awareness that they’ve even stepped over the line.

Of course, not every behavior screams incomplete lower brain development. But it’s amazing how often that which we attribute to being “personality traits” really do reflect such underdevelopment.

So, how can we know for sure? Well, the Brain Highways online adult screening provides a way to score whether someone may be functioning with a disorganized brain.

The Brain Highways online screening course explores this topic in even more depth.  The latter not only provides five different formats to assess many specific areas of lower brain development, but it also provides concrete ways how to then best interact with someone, for example, who has an underdeveloped pons or midbrain.

And what if we do discover that we’re compensating for incomplete lower brain development? Well, we can always go back and finish that development—at any age. That’s what makes learning whether we have a disorganized brain . . .  so worth our time.


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