Voice in the head

[pol.science kid]

I have a question.. when we recall sounds... or say something in our head... i mean i talk in my head continuously.. how does it happen? i mean the words are pronounced correct right?.. but without sound... in our heads... even when we recall images.. we dont particularly have to close our eyes do we.. Does anyone know how it happens?Or when we write we say it in our heads first... so weird when you pay attention to it closely...

[facilitator]

Even when you hear real sound it is only in your head.  Everything is perception. The brain converts vibrations into what your mind tells you you are hearing.

[polly skid]

but those vibration supply the perception isnt it... i mean the sound without that stimulation.. not sound.. the words just... 

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EverComing

[archytas]

It's a tough one kid.  I hold to the reality hypothesis, yet what we are conscious of is from the dark silence of our brains.  I'm sat watching some chronic doctor comedy on my own.  If you were here my brain scan would change (as would yours) even if we hardly let on to each other.  Some have it we transmit to consciousness, but any theory I have on this is as rational as talking to my dogs.  My head is rarely quiet on the inside and I have something of an internal cinema at times.  What I type doesn't always seem to be the words in my head before the fingers work and I swear less when confronted with a keyboard.

There were about 20 senses related to the world last time I looked.  Sadly, I have not found a way to perceive dark matter directly or something like a non-commutative geometry that would flip us to the alien planet at the other side of the Bootes Void I've been dreaming up.  Sometimes the words in my head go on as long as one of my lectures, though I've got so used to droning on in the latter even I can stop listening.

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EverComing

[allan...@gmail.com]

You are not alone. I hear a voice all the time, others occasionally mostly me thinking. I all ways try to listen as it helps me clarify some of my thoughts. I have heard other voices over the years and have learn to recognise them. That is why I am so sure about what I know about reality.

Hinduism should have many stories involving voices.  I does pay to listen to those stories as they can provide both understanding and guidance.  Be careful. Take whatever you learn with a grain of salt. That is the reason why there are oceans full of it.



~~
لا القتل، والاغتصاب أو استعباد الآخرين
Do not murder,  rape or enslave others

[facilitator]

No person can read without saying the words inside their head.  EEvn wneh teh wrdos are jmubeld  

[andrew vecsey]

I have been also thinking about your question for quite a while. On 1/6/2013 I started a topic called "the language of thinking" . You can search for this topic using the search field above or go to the link below. 
https://groups.google.com/forum/#!searchin/minds-eye/andrew$20vecsey/minds-eye/C2uQaHVaMPU/dG1pFXlIkPUJ

My question to the members was......

Whenever I think, I seem to be talking to myself, I can think about something in my memory by imagining and reliving sensations I remember, but whenever I think about those memories, I ultimately revert to talking to my self (up to now, fortunately silently). Do others in this group of thinkers have the same experience? If yes, why do you think that it is like that? If not, how do you manage to think without mentally talking it out?
Thoughts-words-thoughts is a cycle that reinforces itself.

"About 18,000 years ago, man started to use words to display his emotions. Words helped man to think and enabled him to articulate and share his inner most thoughts.  Pictures and written words enabled his thoughts and his knowledge to be stored for later contemplation and to be scattered like seed to grow.  This cultivation, communication and sharing of thoughts, knowledge and experience resulted in the growth of agriculture that enabled civilizations to flourish."

I got some interesting comments that made me think about it more and get new insights that I didn`t have before.....like  

I suppose dance would be like body language. You raise a very interesting point for me about music Gabby. Sometimes when I am in the right frame of mind, I can think of music and I am able to hear (in my mind)  the music, hearing all the notes being played in detail. At those times, when I think of music with lyrics, I can hear (in my mind) the words of the song even though I can not remember the words normally. Kind of strange. Has anyone else experienced that? I suppose it is a kind of photographic memory retrieval.   But what I meant to discuss in this post is that if I want to think about the music or about the dance... maybe to critique it or to analyze it, I find that I can not do that without articulating the thoughts in my mind with words. I wonder if others have found the same thing.

Perhaps thinking can be divided into 2 kinds; emotional and logical. Emotional thinking includes imagining, fantasizing and remembering. Logical thinking includes pondering, contemplating, reasoning, problem solving, analyzing, planning, desiring, admiring, and criticizing. I personally need the language of monologue (talking to myself) for the logical type of thinking only. For the emotional type of thinking, I find feeling is enough.

"For a computer, feelings are algorithms that are programed. Programmed emotions are as easy to see thru them as faked emotions of humans are."

[Gabby]

That's how we learn how to read and fall back to when words and meanings are jumbled up. It is a technique to disrupt the others flow of automated response. It is oftentimes the only chance to get others to listen to something new to them. Otherwise you have to keep using the slow, indirect feeding of attractive or fearful imagery, but you cannot be sure that they really get there where you want them to get.

[gabbydott]

And let me add: listen to something and/or someone new. I don't want to further confuse Neil with the aimlessness of my conversation style.

Am 30.12.2014 10:04 schrieb "Gabby" <gabb...@gmail.com>:

That's how we learn how to read and fall back to when words and meanings are jumbled up. It is a technique to disrupt the others flow of automated response. It is oftentimes the only chance to get others to listen to something new to them. Otherwise you have to keep using the slow, indirect feeding of attractive or fearful imagery, but you cannot be sure that they really get there where you want them to get.

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[archytas]

I probably enjoy being confused by you Gabby. Allan, don't worry too much about the voices inside your head - I left the radio on.

Andrew - I'm off walking the hounds to think about what you've said.  Back to gruffle-wuffle later.  In talking of voices in the head, one has to be careful lest one get a schizo-diagnosis from someone who has read the DMS and a certificate from the madness authority to lock you up.  In the park, people find my dog-talking perfectly reasonable and many join in.  7 Acres would make a great sculpture park - imagine the dogs as art critics and people, finally, with something to lean on ... just a voice in my head Tony - nothing to do with me, just a left-over from one of Allan's Wendanta's (Peter Pan version).

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[andrew vecsey]

It is not that I "hear" words in my head. I just articulate my thoughts with silent words.

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[polly skid]

So... when we learn a language.. or interlnalise it.. we do it with how the words are spoken.. How is it for someone who has never heard a sound form birth?.. their thoughts  i mean... Also its very strange though English is not the first language i learnt from childhood, i 'think' in 'English' now... Although i rarely use it with my friends and family.... 

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EverComing

[polly skid]

On what Andrew said.. yeah we dont hear words.. but suppose someone was hallucinating.. they would actually hear it right(coming from outside)..Like when they say God talks to them.. i wonder with what voice ...but we know the silent words are in our heads.. and the source of both is sort of the same... And when we are conflicted about something... there are never two voices in our heads are there?

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EverComing

[allan...@gmail.com]

My mother learned and only spoke high german in childhood.  Once she started school she quickly learn english. But changing between languages is not a problem.   My wife is the same way.  I seriously doubt you will ever  forget your mother tongue.
I have epilepsy in the language center of my brain it is my mother language.
You are lucky..
..

~~
لا القتل، والاغتصاب أو استعباد الآخرين
Do not murder,  rape or enslave others

-----Original Message-----
From: polly skid <r.fre...@gmail.com>
To: Minds Eye <mind...@googlegroups.com>
Sent: Tue, 30 Dec 2014 3:21 PM
Subject: Re: Mind's Eye Re: Voice in the head

[archytas]

I am aware of some kind of silent presence Andrew, though I can't do the work to articulate it directly.  Einstein talked a lot about this in terms of knowing, visualising but not being able to communicate even to the esoteric language-game players who might understand.  We had an outside loo with no windows when I was a kid.  One could sit in there pondering relativity as one could be in outer space accelerating at 1g with a bit of forgetting the trip from the kitchen.  I could imagine the space rocket bit then, but lacked the equivalence box theory - school had me doing times tables and other useless junk my mother had already taught me.

Words run about in my head - those very ones and these just did.  Something else about communicating with others seems there in accompanying silence.  Sometimes, not always in dreaming there is a lot of visual activity - sometimes memories of trauma and sometimes over trivia.  I get little from meditation and sometimes used medication to get some peace.

Schizophrenics report hearing voices telling them to do things - it's outside my scope to describe this, though I've read clinical reports.  Reagan had a radio to god.

[archytas]

Good Lord, Allan is a Leper ... waiting for dyslexia correction ... ah ... epilepsy, that's all right then.  Distorted communication is interesting - my brother is colourblind so it can be skewed at the virtual end.  If we swallow the reality hypothesis, then the stimuli can be faked to lead to a false picture too - the brain does a lot of focusing and still sees the world upside down after inverting lenses are removed.  My brother speaks several languages and reckons he thinks in whichever he is immersed in.  My first language isn't English.  I have forgotten the mother tongue (those to share with died when I was young), think in English when I speak French and German (badly) and never see or think in numerals (I get shapes).

What gets into our minds to think with is clearly subject to massive control frauds like religion (now neo-liberalism and neo-classical economics).education and language via Bacon's classical Idols of family, tribe, marketplace and non-reflexive theory.  The word Christian more or less turns itself to Flavian in my head when I hear it.  Others get 'Crusader'.  Words might just be labels.  'Molly' does not spring the word Christian in my mind or 'Kid' child.

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EverComing

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[facilitator]

On Tuesday, December 30, 2014 7:54:51 AM UTC-5, archytas wrote:

"I probably enjoy being confused by you Gabby."

Thank God, I thought it was me. 

[allan...@gmail.com]

When you actually hear the voice of God you will know it. What idiots say doesn't matter.  Your soul controls the brain the sound whether audio or mental to the soul they sound the same.

~~
لا القتل، والاغتصاب أو استعباد الآخرين
Do not murder,  rape or enslave others

-----Original Message-----
From: polly skid <r.fre...@gmail.com>
To: Minds Eye <mind...@googlegroups.com>
Sent: Tue, 30 Dec 2014 3:25 PM
Subject: Re: Mind's Eye Re: Voice in the head

[archytas]

You're listening to the BBC's god-slot Allan.  Things will get better when 'The Archers' comes on and you can mainline on idiocy.  Evidence from the soul hearing god was introduced to me by serial killers.  I have to say it sounds very different coming from you.  I suspect the lack of bodies buried in your garden is the deciding factor for me.  Such is the curse of materialism.  You can't find god or the soul with a spade.

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EverComing

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[archytas]

Our friend has a collective effect.  So did Max Stirner.  The last known ensemble of his union of egoists died in a pub fire, collectively forgetting to put the oil lamp out. To the ego her own.

[allan...@gmail.com]

Actually the incident happened some ¿40? years ago.  Sorry Neil no instructions for mass murder plots or any instructions for that matter.. quite boring on that type of ideas. On the other hand for me it is very real and exciting.  What I learned is God is very real. My perspective changed and it no longer matters what the opinion of others is  I simply know God is real a nice Ace in the hole.

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[archytas]

You know I have no qualms on effects on you.  At about the same time, I was discovering something about what was going on in the brains of people no one would want to meet - my first involved listening to an arsonist who had just killed two children.  A smelly, grubby little man with a smell I still remember, he was racked with guilt and protesting he had been acting on god's instructions, including his not guilty plea.  I had him bang to rights, but the court bailed him.  He burned his wife to death a couple of days later, only managing to scorch his hands, having doused himself with disinfectant, mistaking it for petrol.  He didn't interest me much, though the system's failure to protect those who should have mattered did.  I haven't gone much on internally justified epistemology since  The system has probably gone further down the pan too.  My chief constable at the time was a prophet of god.  I went off religion.  How do you know its going to turn you into an admirable old silver-basher or Jimmy-the-Burner?

[allan...@gmail.com]

I'm not the only one its happened to. It is very strange when it does occur. People that claim God told them to do something are probably trying to justify their misbehavior. 

Those that i have met with similar experiences saw the same thing it was always short, sweet and to the point with not many words spent.

Perspective changes you see things differently. What else is there to say.

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[facilitator]

There was a time when "Jimmy The Burner" had the blessing of the Church.

[archytas]

Jimmy didn't have the wit to do Allan's rationalisation.  Dragged up through the Protestant thorn-bush myself, I always tried not to hate him - the shame for me, still residual, is I wasn't able to help.  I still have occasional replays in bad dreams.  There was a big cover-up over 'The Burner' - in regard of his known history and who knew what about him as a danger to himself and the public - in fact there was a long history of social workers and cops unable to do anything for him and a long report presented to a previous court.  The nickname arose on the estate he lived on, suggesting everyone knew.  There was an incident in his cell when I was getting him to sign his confession.  I got the charge office PC (Jailer) to slop some disinfectant under his cot, offered Jimmy a fag and lit my Zippo.  Jimmy's 'interpretation' of this was that I was about to consign him to the fires of hell.  It was honestly all about the smell.  The charge office PC, known only as 'Nobbo' in appreciation of his predilection for head butting prisoners, was highly impressed with my "interrogation technique" and regarded me with new respect thereafter.  I sometimes wish myself capable of such cunning, but surely, if I had meant to inspire Jimmy's reaction, I'd have got him to cough to the Corned Beef Robbery that was a royal pain in the nether regions of CID at the time.

In terms of Pol's 'words in the head', I fortunately don't have these words in conscious view, other than in trauma (blessedly occasional), unless my attention is attracted to recall.  We might wonder on their form in boxes of generally unopened memory.  In ethnomethodology there is always more to recall, though once we start there are issues concerning whether anyone else has the attention span to turn the page.

I have an image of me coming out of that cell 'clutching' Jimmy's confession.  In fact, I carried it between finger and thumb and at arm's length, leaving it near an open window as I typed up various proformas, before sticking it in the brown case-file and dumping that in the DI's in-tray.  Even this recall leaves out my hope never to hear another jot about Jimmy, later sight of the DI spraying the file with air freshener and whether Jimmy could ever commit a crime - unlike other scuzz bags like Ugli Ray Terret whose rape career must have been marginally curtailed when he was locked up for theft (and other hopes on like for like retribution in gaol) - and loads more before one brings in potential reactions, like slipping further into Gabby's approbation as a Big Brother minion.  Recall, it seems is endless even before one considers reception and such as why a serial paedophile rapist could be convicted 35 years on and not at the time when evidence was fresh.

Nobbo was so impressed with my supra-Gestapo methods he had two of his even bigger mates drag me to the pub at end of watch.  These guys were leftovers from the days when height and granite foreheads had been the main recruitment criteria.  It was a boiler-maker day, though there was none of that American nonsense of wasting good whiskey by tossing the spirit glass into the bottom of the beer, spoiling the taste and evading what made you a real man, namely a burning oesophagus and a personality driven by gastric ulcers.  There's probably a novel in Nobbo's reasoning on why he and his mates could be seen associating with a Jock dwarf who had passed the promotion exams.  I must be all right if I'd burned a confession out of an arsonist and there was that fight I'd had with a tiger that had come off second best.  I held the record for police brutality complaints (seven chummies in a row in one morning in Magistrates' Court).  What a guy!

Nobbo's stories had occasional threads of truth.  There had been a tiger, though it was stuffed, and the armed burglar I pushed it on top of had had the fight with it and lost.  The fire had all been in Jimmy's "mind".  The brutality complaints were all untrue and made by the same solicitor giving his clients, doomed on actual evidence, a run for their money.  He'd had the decency to take me out for dinner on his proceeds from Legal Aid.  We'd played in the same university rugby team and he was a little guilty that our private joke had added several months to his clients' sentences.

The Corned Beef lorry-hyjack-robbery robbery began to be cleared up in the pub.  Nobbo's particularly large mate, Geoff 'the badger' Betts, so called after an incident in which he had recovered a missing child alive by digging her out of a foul dungeon with his bare hands (truth more interesting - he used a JCB, was bald and far too big for anyone to risk calling him as bald as a badger) - question: what words do we focus out of mind into speech or text? - anyway Badger pulled me over to the bar during the after-hours lock in, telling me there was something I should see.  Vision wasn't on form, though I had noticed all the designated drivers were drunk.  I could see the landlord's Jack Russell eating greedily.  Badger separated the beast from its food dish, waving both in turn too close to my nose.  The dog was eating corned beef.  The landlord's wife had bought a ton of the stuff, the same brand as the blagg.  Ten grand's worth of corned beef might not seem much to worry about and Fray Bentos was about to cease being a brand in the UK, given Thatcher's coming and convenient war with Argentina over an obsolete sheep farm.  But the lorry driver had just died in hospital, conveniently not adding to murder statistics by lasting more than 385 days after the brutal assault.  Fray Bentos was manufacturing in Brazil by then, but most Brits favoured nuking Rio in retaliation for the occupation of South Georgia by Argentinian scrap merchants.  A book later and you'd know who nicked the corned beef and the story is a 'film noir'.

None of this is true, of course.  It can't be as we all told very different stories in court.  So what are words, even if exchanged between people not typing on broken Enigma machines?  Are the words in Pol's head or mine (anyone's) already focused on what we dare to say to others, or the context of a system of evidence or the frozen morality of mannered political correctness and entertainment?

Draw us a picture Tony.  I guess we could soon exceed the 1000-word limit imposed on one of them, quickly ensuring all but the brave focused their attention on the wine waiter before realising they have to buy a sculpture to get out of the gallery, past Nobbo and Badger at the entrance!  My favourite sculpture is by Steve Bell, a caricature of Thatcher, 'carved from the living guano' with the inscription 'she snatched a bloody war from the jaws of a peaceful settlement'.

I've not had Allan's warm experience.  At our age we might share a joke about what old men have just done when they get one.  My version concerns a 4 billion year old civilisation - the Nool on Boolis beyond the Bootes void - tired of the search for god and soul they built their own only to discover the technological life was neither, though made them all much happier.  Several chapters later, they are at Earth, one of the paradise planet-failures once assumed a part of their merely mythical past.  I kiss one.  They are arthropod of arachnid origin, so don't accuse me of getting too close to my ants Toe Knee (we say 'a-bumps-e-daisy' after that here).

What are words?  Allan's warm thingy I wish I'd had?  Why like someone who seems to feed on rejection?  Why did Tony get that representational skill I'm both jealous of and somewhat joyous is in the world he has shared some of with us?  How do I know the Nool when it would take our technology a million years to get to them?  What role do future memories have in evaluating the present - 'work ethic' looks particularly stupid once robots can do more or less anything - and when most of our efforts go to the one percent for that matter  ...

Brave New Year to all

Love to Gabbs for tolerating me treating her like the Big Sister I always miss - always my greatest critic and never absent from any rugby match I played in unless there was a hockey match she could display her county-level killing skills in.

[polly skid]

I hate jimmy the burner.. by the description of him... I recently got into comic books.. too late i know.. but well currently im just fascinated by them,In the latest version of 'Injustice'...they bring up the age old issue... do good guys have the right to 'kill' the criminals to prevent loss of human lives... well academically i disagree with this on ethics and what not.. but when i really think about it... i think i would like to put an end to someone who does this kind of nasty work even if 'God told them to' ha ha... In 'Injustice' they show Superman takes revenge when the Joker kills his pregnant girlfriend, so he kills the Joker and then slowly turns into this Protector of the innocent tyrant, while Batman and the others some think that he shouldnt be this Great Alien Ruler kind of the Earth... going around killing the 'evil'guys.. and try to get a forced Peace.. although i dislike Superman.. i secretly side with him.. When you say Hockey.. do you mean Ice hockey or the other one?The other one is very big in my country...   

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EverComing

[archytas]

My Sis played as a mean defender in hockey played on grass Pol.  I don't remember anyone getting past her alive.  Played a few games myself, but felt safer facing fast bowling in cricket.

The comics have something to say, though summary justice faces many problems, including revenge and the constant wars of some primitive societies.  I used to like Maigret and his ability to weigh justice in his own hands.  The dark Batman of the comics can be good and the camp television series was a must watch.  Killing bad guys and capital punishment would be OK by me if we weren't so prejudiced and incompetent.  The Keystone Cops was more accurate than most suppose.  I'd like to see a superhero called 'Bureaucratic Bungler' - I worked with enough and could put up a fair effort in the role myself.  Burner eventually put an end to himself in a mattress fire.

Killing is odd and contextual.  Genocide has been fairly routine in our history and we generally hide that.  Comics don't like to dwell on this kind of thing, other than in setting up some new savages or Nazis to mow down.  I'd be inclined to a story where the heroes discover they have been drugged into targeting the wrong bad guys and finally get after the bankers and politicians Untouchables-style.  But really we need more participation in policing and the military to ensure a democratic base and to stop politicians and lawyers dominating.  This said, I like Judge Dredd!

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EverComing

[Gabby]

Hello Pol and happy new year to you, my dear!

I have heard a lot of stories of people and how they handle their autocommunication. Hearing voices in the head seems to be the classic. The message-from-the-mother voice seems to like it somewhere near the left ear, I have been told several times. I believe you can actually hear, see, feel etc. anything - Ghosts, mothers, God, animals. In non-pathological, normal cases it is worth tying to reframe and set up and visualize a so called "inner team", consisting of human "role models". Make them play their roles "properly", to be a team, so the "I" can make good decisions in communication with the outside world. For teaching children what is going on and beyond I would still stick with the more complex fairy tales technique though. :)