Healthy Brain, Happy Life

Wendy Suzuki, Billie Fitzpatrick

• Publisher: Dey Street Books
• Year: 2015
• ISBN:
  9780062366801
• Topic: Personal Development
• Subtopic: Mental Health & Wellbeing

A neuroscientist transforms the way we think about our brain, our health, and our personal happiness in this clear, informative, and inspiring guide—a blend of personal memoir, science narrative, and immediately useful takeaways that bring the human brain into focus as never before, revealing the powerful connection between exercise, learning, memory, and cognitive abilities.

Nearing forty, Dr. Wendy Suzuki was at the pinnacle of her career. An award-winning university professor and world-renowned neuroscientist, she had tenure, her own successful research lab, prestigious awards, and international renown.

That's when to celebrate her birthday, she booked an adventure trip that forced her to wake up to a startling reality: despite her professional success, she was overweight, lonely, and tired and knew that her life had to change. Wendy started simply—by going to an exercise class. Eventually, she noticed an improvement in her memory, her energy levels, and her ability to work quickly and move from task to task easily. Not only did Wendy begin to get fit, but she also became sharper, had more energy, and her memory improved. Being a neuroscientist, she wanted to know why.

What she learned transformed her body and her life. Now, it can transform yours.

Wendy discovered that there is a biological connection between exercise, mindfulness, and action. With exercise, your body feels more alive and your brain actually performs better. Yes—you can make yourself smarter. In this fascinating book, Suzuki makes neuroscience easy to understand, interweaving her personal story with groundbreaking research, and offering practical, short exercises—4 minute Brain Hacks—to engage your mind and improve your memory, your ability to learn new skills, and function more efficiently.

Taking us on an amazing journey inside the brain as never before, Suzuki helps us unlock the keys to neuroplasticity that can change our brains, or bodies, and, ultimately, our lives.

1

HOW A GEEKY GIRL
FELL IN LOVE WITH THE BRAIN:
The Science of Neuroplasticity and Enrichment

Long before I wanted to be a scientist, I dreamed of being a Broadway star. My father, an electrical engineer and one of the most diehard Broadway fans you will ever meet, took us to every traveling Broadway production that came to San Francisco, just an hour away from my hometown of Sunnyvale, California. I saw Yul Brynner (when he was about eighty-five) in The King and I, Rex Harrison (when he was about ninety-eight) in My Fair Lady, and Richard Burton (kind of old, but not ancient) in Camelot. I spent my childhood watching Shirley Temple movies and all the classic Hollywood musicals. My dad took my brother and me to see The Sound of Music when it was released in the theater each year. We must have seen it twenty times. I fancied myself as a magical blend of Julie Andrews, Shirley Jones, and Shirley Temple, and in my daydreams, I would spontaneously break into song and, in my adorable, impossibly plucky way, save the day and get the guy—all in one fell swoop.

But despite my father’s love of all things Broadway, I was clearly expected to do something serious with my life. As a third-generation Japanese American with a grandfather who had come to the United States in 1910 and founded the largest Japanese-language school on the west coast, my family had high expectations for all of their children. Not that they ever verbalized these high standards—they never had to. It was simply understood that I should work hard at school and pursue a serious career that they could be proud of. And by serious, I knew I had only three choices: I could become a doctor, a lawyer, or something academic—the more impressive sounding the better. I didn’t fight these expectations; they made sense to me.

Quite early, in the sixth grade at Ortega Middle School in fact, I began a lifelong pursuit of science. My science teacher that year, Mr. Turner, taught us about the bones of the human body, testing us by having us put one hand into a dark box to identify a bone by touch. I loved it! No squirming for me—I was thrilled by the dare. I became even more excited when I got to do my first pig and frog dissections, and despite the revolting odor, I knew I had to know more. How did all those little organs fit so compactly and beautifully into that little pig body? How did they all work together so seamlessly? If this is what it looked like inside a pig, what might the inside of a human look like? The process of biological dissection captured my imagination from the first moment I got that choking whiff of formaldehyde.

The emerging scientist in me was also fascinated with that most coveted of candy concoctions when I was growing up: Pop Rocks. While other kids in my class were satisfied by the mouth-feel of explosions on their tongues, I wanted to understand what triggered these bursts and what wild sensory/chemical experiences you could have in your mouth by combining them with other things, like fizzy seltzer water, hot tea, or ice water. Unfortunately, Mom deemed these experiments a choking hazard and they quickly ended.

My high school math teacher, Mr. Travoli, lovingly guided me through the beauty and logic of A.P. trigonometry. I loved the elegance of math equations, which when done correctly could unlock the keys to a pristine world, balanced on either side of an equal sign. I already had a feeling that understanding math was a key to what I wanted to do (even though I had no idea what that was in high school), and I worked hard to get the best marks in class. In his lilting Italian accent, Mr. Travoli told us over and over again that we advanced-placement students were “the best of the best.” I took this as both an encouragement to excel and a solemn responsibility to use my math skills to their fullest potential. I was a serious and earnest kid, on my way to becoming an even more serious teenager.

By this time, the only outlet for my inner Broadway passion was going to the movies. I got my parents to agree to let me see Saturday Night Fever on my own by telling them it was a “musical” and conveniently failed to mention the R rating (I was only twelve). They were not pleased when they realized what I had seen. Later, I was obsessed with movies like Dirty Dancing, and imagined myself effortlessly stealing the show in Johnny Castle’s arms despite the fact that I hadn’t taken a single dance lesson since my ballet and tap days in grade school.

By high school, the balance had decidedly shifted. The shining lights of Broadway had dimmed, and I was a steadfast, committed, and driven student, completely at home in a life of total science geekdom. I can see an image of myself in high school: shoulders hunched, serious faced, and carrying a tower of heavy books, as I made my way through the hallways trying not to attract any attention. Yes, I still relived my Broadway fantasies every time I saw one of my favorite musicals on television, but by then those dreams were kept locked in the den at home and studious geek girl had taken over my life. I was entirely immersed in academics, getting straight As and getting into a top college. I had no time left over to even think about my whimsical interests, never mind letting them coexist alongside my devotion to science and math.

I was also painfully shy, never close to being bold enough to date anyone in high school. I was on the tennis team all four years, but how could I not be? My mother was an intense and active amateur tennis player who made sure I played tennis year round and sent me to tennis camp every summer. Tennis was supposed to make me more well rounded, but in reality, what I desperately needed was a camp focused on the topic of how to talk to boys. Well, I never went to that camp, and as a consequence, I also didn’t go out on a single date or to a single prom through junior high and high school. In other words, if there had been a Miss Wallflower USA contest for nerdy science geeks, I would have blown the competition away.

All those stereotypes about the geeky, dateless science nerd? I proved them true.

FROM BROADWAY STAR TO LAB RAT

Although my science obsession, good grades, and academic drive didn’t win me any dates, they did get me somewhere—somewhere good. While I didn’t know exactly what kind of science I wanted to pursue, I knew where I wanted to study it. The University of California, Berkeley, just a hop, skip, and jump from Sunnyvale, was my family’s alma mater. Yes, I toyed with the idea of moving away to college and even got into Wellesley way on the other side of the country, but I was in love with the beautiful Berkeley campus and quirky-cool vibe of the town and just knew that it was the right school for me. I applied and was successfully admitted, which made me officially the happiest girl in the world that spring. I quickly packed my bags and could not wait to start this new adventure.

It turns out I didn’t have to wait long at all to find my academic passion. It came in the form of a freshman honors seminar I took my very first semester at Berkeley called “The Brain and Its Potential.” It was taught by the renowned neuroscientist Professor Marian C. Diamond. There were only about fifteen students in the class, allowing for more direct interaction with the teacher.

I’ll never forget the very first day of that class.

First, there was Diamond herself. She looked like a science rock star standing at the front of that classroom, tall, proud, and athletic with a blonde bouffant hairdo that made her look even taller than she was, wearing a crisp white lab coat over a beautiful silk blouse and skirt.

Also, sitting on the table in front of Diamond was a large flowered hat box. After she welcomed us to her class, Diamond threw on a pair of examination gloves, opened the hat box, and slowly and ever so lovingly lifted out an actual preserved human brain.

The human brain.

(Courtesy of the author)

It was the first one I had ever seen in my life, and I was completely mesmerized.

Diamond told us that what she was holding in her hands was the most complex structure known to humankind. It was the structure that defined how we see, feel, taste, smell, and hear the world around us. It defines our personalities and allows us to go from crying to laughing sometimes in a blink of an eye.

I remember how she held that brain in her hands. This object used to be someone’s whole life and being, and she respected that awesome fact in the way she handled that precious piece of tissue.

The brain sported a light tan color that I later learned mainly came from the chemicals used to preserve it. The top part of the brain looked like a compact mass of thick, somewhat unruly tubes. It had an oblong shape that was slightly wider on one end than the other. When she turned the brain to the side, I could see more of the complexity of the structure, with the front side of the brain shorter than the back end. The divided and paired structure of the brain was obvious at first glance—the right and left sides of the brain were each separated into different parts, or lobes.

THE BRAIN AND ALL ITS PARTS

Neuroscientists used to think of the different parts of the brain as housing certain functions. We know now that that’s only partially true. While specific areas of the brain do have specific functions (see the following list), it’s important to keep in mind that all parts of the brain are connected, like a vast and intricate network.

(Courtesy of Ashley Halsey)

• Frontal lobe: This front section of the brain houses the all-important prefrontal cortex (making up the front part of the frontal lobe), understood to be the so-called seat of personality and integral to planning and attention, working memory, decision making, and managing social behavior. The primary motor cortex, the area responsible for allowing us to move our bodies, forms the most posterior (toward the back) boundary of the frontal lobe.

• Parietal lobe: This lobe is important for visual–spatial functions and works with the frontal lobe to help make decisions. The part of the cortex responsible for allowing us to feel sensations from our bodies (known as the primary touch cortex) is located at the most anterior (toward the front) part of the parietal lobe.

• Occipital lobe: This is the part of the brain that allows us to see.

• Temporal lobe: This is the part of the brain involved in hearing, vision, and memory.

• Hippocampus: Located deep inside the temporal lobe, this area is crucial for the formation of long-term memories; it’s also involved in aspects of mood and imagination.

• Amygdala: This structure, which is critical for the processing of and response to emotions such as fear, anger, and attraction, is also located deep inside the temporal lobe right in front of the hippocampus.

• Striatum: This area, which is seen best from a cut down the middle of the brain, is involved in motor function and plays an important role in how we form habits (and why they are so hard to break!); it’s also integral to the reward system and how addictions develop.

Like the best teachers do, Diamond then made what initially seemed incomprehensibly complex totally understandable. She told us that this big complex mass of tissue was really made up of only two kinds of cells: neurons and glia. Neurons are the workhorses of the brain and each contains a cell body, which is the control center of the neuron; input structures called dendrites, which look like big tree branches, that receive information coming into the cell body; and a thin output structure called the axon, which can also have lots of branches.

What makes neurons unique from any other cell in the body is that they are able to communicate via brief bursts of electrical activity, called action potentials, or spikes. That cross talk between the axon of one neuron and the dendrite of the next one takes place at a special communication point between the two called a synapse. It’s the brain’s electrical “chatter,” or axon-to-dendrite communication, that is the basis for all the brain does.

Neurons and their connections.

(Courtesy of Ashley Halsey)

What about the glia cells? Glia means “glue,” and the cells were so named because scientists in the nineteenth century mistakenly thought these cells had something to do with holding the brain together. While it’s true that some of the glia cells do serve a scaffolding function in the brain, we now know that they actually serve a wide range of different support functions for neurons. Glia cells supply nutrients and oxygen to the neurons; they form a special coating on the neurons called myelin, which is required for normal synaptic transmission; and they attack germs and serve as the brain’s cleanup crew, removing the debris from dead neurons. Exciting new evidence suggests that gli...