NationStates Jolt Archive

NOTE: There are lots of threads on General which deal with that mysterious, semi-mistical thing called "love." This fascinating study utilizes MRI imaging to help identify the areas of the brain activated by "romantic love," "passion" and "comittment." ( Entire article posted in two parts. )


Watching New Love as It Sears the Brain ( Part One ) (http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/31/health/psychology/31love.html?th&emc=th)

By BENEDICT CAREY
Published: May 31, 2005

New love can look for all the world like mental illness, a blend of mania, dementia and obsession that cuts people off from friends and family and prompts out-of-character behavior - compulsive phone calling, serenades, yelling from rooftops - that could almost be mistaken for psychosis.

Now for the first time, neuroscientists have produced brain scan images of this fevered activity, before it settles into the wine and roses phase of romance or the joint holiday card routines of long-term commitment.

In an analysis of the images appearing today in The Journal of Neurophysiology, researchers in New York and New Jersey argue that romantic love is a biological urge distinct from sexual arousal.

It is closer in its neural profile to drives like hunger, thirst or drug craving, the researchers assert, than to emotional states like excitement or affection. As a relationship deepens, the brain scans suggest, the neural activity associated with romantic love alters slightly, and in some cases primes areas deep in the primitive brain that are involved in long-term attachment.

The research helps explain why love produces such disparate emotions, from euphoria to anger to anxiety, and why it seems to become even more intense when it is withdrawn. In a separate, continuing experiment, the researchers are analyzing brain images from people who have been rejected by their lovers.

"When you're in the throes of this romantic love it's overwhelming, you're out of control, you're irrational, you're going to the gym at 6 a.m. every day - why? Because she's there," said Dr. Helen Fisher, an anthropologist at Rutgers University and the co-author of the analysis. "And when rejected, some people contemplate stalking, homicide, suicide. This drive for romantic love can be stronger than the will to live."

Brain imaging technology cannot read people's minds, experts caution, and a phenomenon as many sided and socially influenced as love transcends simple computer graphics, like those produced by the technique used in the study, called functional M.R.I.

Still, said Dr. Hans Breiter, director of the Motivation and Emotion Neuroscience Collaboration at Massachusetts General Hospital, "I distrust about 95 percent of the M.R.I. literature and I would give this study an 'A'; it really moves the ball in terms of understanding infatuation love."

He added: "The findings fit nicely with a large, growing body of literature describing a generalized reward and aversion system in the brain, and put this intellectual construct of love directly onto the same axis as homeostatic rewards such as food, warmth, craving for drugs."

In the study, Dr. Fisher, Dr. Lucy Brown of Albert Einstein College of Medicine in the Bronx and Dr. Arthur Aron, a psychologist at the State University of New York at Stony Brook, led a team that analyzed about 2,500 brain images from 17 college students who were in the first weeks or months of new love. The students looked at a picture of their beloved while an M.R.I. machine scanned their brains. The researchers then compared the images with others taken while the students looked at picture of an acquaintance.

Functional M.R.I. technology detects increases or decreases of blood flow in the brain, which reflect changes in neural activity.

In the study, a computer-generated map of particularly active areas showed hot spots deep in the brain, below conscious awareness, in areas called the caudate nucleus and the ventral tegmental area, which communicate with each other as part of a circuit.

These areas are dense with cells that produce or receive a brain chemical called dopamine, which circulates actively when people desire or anticipate a reward. In studies of gamblers, cocaine users and even people playing computer games for small amounts of money, these dopamine sites become extremely active as people score or win, neuroscientists say.

Yet falling in love is among the most irrational of human behaviors, not merely a matter of satisfying a simple pleasure, or winning a reward. And the researchers found that one particular spot in the M.R.I. images, in the caudate nucleus, was especially active in people who scored highly on a questionnaire measuring passionate love.

Watching New Love as It Sears the Brain ( Part Two ) (http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/31/health/psychology/31love.html?th&emc=th)


This passion-related region was on the opposite side of the brain from another area that registers physical attractiveness, the researchers found, and appeared to be involved in longing, desire and the unexplainable tug that people feel toward one person, among many attractive alternative partners.

his distinction, between finding someone attractive and desiring him or her, between liking and wanting, "is all happening in an area of the mammalian brain that takes care of most basic functions, like eating, drinking, eye movements, all at an unconscious level, and I don't think anyone expected this part of the brain to be so specialized," Dr. Brown said.

The intoxication of new love mellows with time, of course, and the brain scan findings reflect some evidence of this change, Dr. Fisher said.

In an earlier functional M.R.I. study of romance, published in 2000, researchers at University College London monitored brain activity in young men and women who had been in relationships for about two years. The brain images, also taken while participants looked at photos of their beloved, showed activation in many of the same areas found in the new study - but significantly less so, in the region correlated with passionate love, she said.

In the new study, the researchers also saw individual differences in their group of smitten lovers, based on how long the participants had been in the relationships. Compared with the students who were in the first weeks of a new love, those who had been paired off for a year or more showed significantly more activity in an area of the brain linked to long-term commitment.

Last summer, scientists at Emory University in Atlanta reported that injecting a ratlike animal called a vole with a single gene turned promiscuous males into stay-at-home dads - by activating precisely the same area of the brain where researchers in the new study found increased activity over time.

"This is very suggestive of attachment processes taking place," Dr. Brown said. "You can almost imagine a time where instead of going to Match.com you could have a test to find out whether you're an attachment type or not."

One reason new love is so heart-stopping is the possibility, the ever-present fear, that the feeling may not be entirely requited, that the dream could suddenly end.

In a follow-up experiment, Dr. Fisher, Dr. Aron and Dr. Brown have carried out brain scans on 17 other young men and women who recently were dumped by their lovers. As in the new love study, the researchers compared two sets of images, one taken when the participants were looking at a photo of a friend, the other when looking at a picture of their ex.

Although they are still sorting through the images, the investigators have noticed one preliminary finding: increased activation in an area of the brain related to the region associated with passionate love. "It seems to suggest what the psychological literature, poetry and people have long noticed: that being dumped actually does heighten romantic love, a phenomenon I call frustration-attraction," Dr. Fisher said in an e-mail message.

One volunteer in the study was Suzanna Katz, 22, of New York, who suffered through a breakup with her boyfriend three years ago. Ms. Katz said she became hyperactive to distract herself after the split, but said she also had moments of almost physical withdrawal, as if weaning herself from a drug.

"It had little to do with him, but more with the fact that there was something there, inside myself, a hope, a knowledge that there's someone out there for you, and that you're capable of feeling this way, and suddenly I felt like that was being lost," she said in an interview.

And no wonder. In a series of studies, researchers have found that, among other processes, new love involves psychologically internalizing a lover, absorbing elements of the other person's opinions, hobbies, expressions, character, as well as sharing one's own. "The expansion of the self happens very rapidly, it's one of the most exhilarating experiences there is, and short of threatening our survival it is one thing that most motivates us," said Dr. Aron, of SUNY, a co-author of the study.

To lose all that, all at once, while still in love, plays havoc with the emotional, cognitive and deeper reward-driven areas of the brain. But the heightened activity in these areas inevitably settles down. And the circuits in the brain related to passion remain intact, the researchers say - intact and capable in time of flaring to life with someone new.

So if they know how it works, maybe they can cure it...

So if they know how it works, maybe they can cure it...

Or market it as a spray.

Love by Calvin Klein...

Or market it as a spray.

Love by Calvin Klein...

But then the military would use it as a weapon. After all, if the enemy are screwing each others brains out, they aren't going to fight back. Its kind of hard to aim...

But then the military would use it as a weapon. After all, if the enemy are screwing each others brains out, they aren't going to fight back. Its kind of hard to aim...
Now THAT's a military action I could support.

But then the military would use it as a weapon. After all, if the enemy are screwing each others brains out, they aren't going to fight back. Its kind of hard to aim...

I remember this being proposed once, or rather, a lesser version of it. Chemical warfare, using some neurochemical which causes distraction, inability to focus properly, a tendency for the mind to wander. Drop a chaff bomb over them so it explodes a hundred feet above ground and walk in and round them up with minimal resistance when they all get distracted by the shiny bits of foil.

Temporary behaviour-altering chemicals = best form of chemical warfare. If you gotta gas 'em, don't kill 'em, that just pisses off their friends and raises guerrillas against you. Just make them unable to fight, and take them POW.

I think this is similar to "Scientists begin harnessing the power of the flower; new bomb capable of leveling entire counties, leaving only pot-smoking hippies in its wake."

But then the military would use it as a weapon. After all, if the enemy are screwing each others brains out, they aren't going to fight back. Its kind of hard to aim...

Make love not war!


Oh, and Eut'. That's something I didn't want to know. I thought it was supposed to be a mystery? I mean I suppose it's my fault for reading it.

But don't ruin the enigma wrapped in a savoury sauce!

OMG... truly love is undesirable and irrational. My advice is: don't.

Yeah, I already figured out that love was like a drug addiction. Probably best avoided.

Now THAT's a military action I could support.
Ditto!

"Oh PLEASE use your 'love bomb" on us!" :D

Make love not war!


Oh, and Eut'. That's something I didn't want to know. I thought it was supposed to be a mystery? I mean I suppose it's my fault for reading it.

But don't ruin the enigma wrapped in a savoury sauce!
All things are fair game for the masters of weird science! Mwahahahaha! :D

OMG... truly love is undesirable and irrational. My advice is: don't.
"Irrational?" Definitely.

"Undesiralbe?" Well HARDLY! :D

I remember this being proposed once, or rather, a lesser version of it. Chemical warfare, using some neurochemical which causes distraction, inability to focus properly, a tendency for the mind to wander. Drop a chaff bomb over them so it explodes a hundred feet above ground and walk in and round them up with minimal resistance when they all get distracted by the shiny bits of foil.

Temporary behaviour-altering chemicals = best form of chemical warfare. If you gotta gas 'em, don't kill 'em, that just pisses off their friends and raises guerrillas against you. Just make them unable to fight, and take them POW.
Better yet, make 'em all happy as hell. Not only will you win, they'll love you for it! :D

Better yet, make 'em all happy as hell. Not only will you win, they'll love you for it! :D

Great, just what we need...MORE expensive equipment.

Think about it, if this works our troops would need body armor AND chastity belts. ;)

Veterans hospitals would be full of wounded people, mouthing the words, "No more, I can't walk!"

And the less said about VD the better. The elite 42nd Syphillis brigade would wipe out entire enemy divisions.

Great, just what we need...MORE expensive equipment.

Think about it, if this works our troops would need body armor AND chastity belts. ;)

Veterans hospitals would be full of wounded people, mouthing the words, "No more, I can't walk!"

And the less said about VD the better. The elite 42nd Syphillis brigade would wipe out entire enemy divisions.
ROFLMFAO!!!! That's hilarious! :D

"Yes, I'm a veteran of the Love Wars. Please do NOT send any female nurses in here!" :D

ROFLMFAO!!!! That's hilarious! :D

"Yes, I'm a veteran of the Love Wars. Please do NOT send any female nurses in here!" :D

Good thing I gave you the abbreviated, PG version. ;) I'm telling you, this could be made into a comic book.

love is biochemically no different from consuming large quantities of chocolate.

love is biochemically no different from consuming large quantities of chocolate.

Thank you Satan. ;) I loved that movie. Keanu Reeves as a Southern Lawyer making it evil in the big city. Wonderfully done.

Good thing I gave you the abbreviated, PG version. ;) I'm telling you, this could be made into a comic book.
LOL! Hmmm! Not a bad idea. Wanna collaborate on one with me? :D

LOL! Hmmm! Not a bad idea. Wanna collaborate on one with me? :D

Sure, who do we get to be our artist? We could either go super-realistic; dirty, gritty, old-style WW2 comic books, or try for a lighter, more cartoony feel.

Right. I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna write out the first chapter of "The love war" a gritty drama of a soldier's experience in the hell that is war and love. I'll be done sometime lat this evening, early tomorrow. Look forward to it. :)

Cool. Now I can avoid taking responsibility for the things done in the insanity of love.

Cool. Now I can avoid taking responsibility for the things done in the insanity of love.
Hardly! No one said that just because you have hormones and an active brain that you were no longer responsible for your own behavior! Tsk! What am I going to do with you, BK! :)

Sure, who do we get to be our artist? We could either go super-realistic; dirty, gritty, old-style WW2 comic books, or try for a lighter, more cartoony feel.

Right. I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna write out the first chapter of "The love war" a gritty drama of a soldier's experience in the hell that is war and love. I'll be done sometime lat this evening, early tomorrow. Look forward to it. :)
Go for it! Do I get to input to the process? :)

Might have an artist in mind for this.

when you do this, you should put it on the internet for the rest of us to enjoy :)


And to all you folk hurt by love, about a year ago, I would be all "love sucks" with the rest of you, but it can also be a wonderful thing. I met a wonderful woman who I am now very happy with, who helped me get over my unrequited love that had me so down.

So yea, I is pro-comic books and pro-love, I suppose :D

Hardly! No one said that just because you have hormones and an active brain that you were no longer responsible for your own behavior! Tsk! What am I going to do with you, BK! :)
Help her with her e-divorce from her e-husband and then have her e-marry me! :D

Its on its way, perhaps I was a tad hasty when I said tomorrow morning. I was assuming I would have time to work on it. ;)

Tomorrow evening is more realistic. Around this time tomorrow I would say. It'll be a draft of course, but enough to give you some idea of what I'm going for.

But, boy, its becoming a lot darker story than I originally anticipated! I guess if you start considering that 90% of it is sexual innuendo, its actually hilarious fun in serious clothing. Its fun to write, I'll tell you that.

Or market it as a spray.

Love by Calvin Klein...
bah you can probably buy it already. don't you get spam emails? ;)

Tomorrow evening is more realistic. Around this time tomorrow I would say. It'll be a draft of course, but enough to give you some idea of what I'm going for.

sweet. keep us posted :D

Love is a battlefield

-or-

John Lennon was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Chapter 1: “It” is a codeword. If you can’t figure out for what, you need to read more.

Hunching down, arms held close against the cold night air, he shuddered as his breath wafted up into the night sky. It was frigid out in the foxhole, his hands were icy and pale, but that wasn’t why he was shivering.

It had been too close this time.

A moment of weakness overcame him, terrified and lonely; he clutched at his rough uniform with needy hands, desperate for comfort. He wanted to cry, he needed to cry, but no tears would come. Rubbing his dry eyes with one hand, he sniffled a little as his body made a pitiful attempt at sleep. Fitful and without rest, he awoke barely an hour later, still despondent and very alone.

His teeth chattered in the frosty air, the clicking sound audible for yards in every direction. A voice from nearby startled him. “Hey, you okay?” It was quavering, probably from the cold, and it was infused with worry. For some reason, the words were instant comfort too him, like a warm embrace.

“Yeah. Just cold is all.” It wasn’t totally a lie.

“If you need a smoke, lemme know. I’ll set you up for a dollar.” The voice called again. The voice wafted over to him, low to the ground, obviously in another foxhole a couple of yards away. It might as well have been a mile.

“Thanks. I’ll think about it.” He didn’t need to smoke. He couldn’t smoke before a battle anyway, only afterwards. Always afterwards, then he needed one, almost medically needed one. One time, he looted a lighter from a fallen soldier just to enjoy that taste. He probably should have cried about it, it was so sad a moment, but his eyes were dry then as well.

It had been close then too.

He shut his mind away from the thought. Every time he went into battle, it was close, just behind him, just waiting for him to drop his guard. He would never be caught with his pants down; the war had made him careful, cautious when others would be caught up in the moment. He always wore all his protective gear, he always watched his back, and he never let pleasure make him forget about pain. Until the battle was over, he wouldn’t smoke.

A gunshot rang out, far in the distance; it covered the first sounds of the approaching man as he slowly crawled towards the foxhole. Whoever it was came from the friendly lines, nothing much to worry about, unless the enemy spotted him and tried to snipe him. Five yards, 3 yards, the sound of a pebble catching a button and scraping against it, 1 yard to go. A head of hair sprang over the side of the foxhole, curly and unkempt. A youthful voice accompanied it.

“The Lt. says 4 hours from now. We’ll hit with air first, then we gas ‘em and go in. Try to get some sleep before then.” The whispering voice drifted away towards the end of the rehearsed speech, before crawling slowly to the next foxhole. The whole experience felt rather surreal, like some wandering serpent whispering unwelcome news, a serpent with a private’s stripe making its way through the scattered cover and foxholes that dotted the landscape.

He listened to the messenger crawl away, scuffling sounds fading into the distance, taking the time to consider the message closely. Airpower; chances are they were going to use those old, re-commissioned ‘love shacks’ to violate enemy airspace. The aging B-52s were perfect for this war, cheap to produce, just big enough to drop those new “daisy cutter” bombs.

A cough rattled out from a foxhole near him, interrupting his thoughts briefly, he looked up and squinted at the stars above. He shook his head and muttered to himself. Whoever had harnessed the power of those flowers was a sadist. The bombs were used almost exclusively for blunting the thrust of an enemy force and opening up holes in the enemy line for troops to exploit.

The massive payload those things would lay down would be followed by the infamous “love from above”; the debilitating gas that defined this war. The enemy troops learned to fear the arrival of the gas; it meant that soon troops would soon begin pushing in yet another desperate attempt to punch through to the rear. Invariably the enemy would counter attack to regain lost ground and honor. This had gone on for months now, but the end was in sight now, his fellow troops were weary but relieved; soon they would have release.

Each thrust and counter-thrust had greatly weakened both sides, but slowly the greater stamina of their allies and comrades had left the enemy with just a few points of resistance left. Soon their front would be exposed and the rear would receive more than the occasional raid. They all felt it, that a deep penetration would occur any day now.

All well and good for the brass, who got to sit back and hand out medals to those who could make it back. For the average grunt, sitting in a foxhole and waiting for the gas, it was small consolation for getting their ass turned into hamburger by the enemy’s bloodlust.

Subconsciously he reached for his canteen, it was empty or course; water had been scarce through the entire war. He tried to remember the last time his mouth wasn’t dry, but gave up, such thoughts only made one remember just how long this had taken.

On the ground, it seemed like every time they crawled out of their holes, it seemed they simply had to dive into a new one as the enemy came again. No matter how close they were to finishing the job, the enemy still had a lot left in them. And they simply kept coming, no matter how many men they put down, another rose in their place. Perhaps their only asset left was their manpower.

Stretching, he yawned silently. They had told him to get some sleep, even though he knew he would regret it, he followed their advice. Wrapping himself tightly in his dirty scrap of a blanket, he settled in the foxhole. He slept then, quietly whimpering as his dream came to him, the same one, each time. The old nightmare, it was his first battle in the Love Wars.

He was still pale back then, back before his skin was burned bronze by the constant exposure. The sun burned in the dry air, even though it was dusk the temperature didn’t drop until well after the last rays disappeared over the horizon. He was standing underneath the light at the barrack’s entrance, trying to locate his lighter; pockets searched, duffle rooted through, head scratched. His friend walked up with a lit cigarette in his mouth.

“Need a fag, Dag?” His friend called. In the squad, they never did settle on a brand.

“Yeah, have you seen my damn lighter? I swear I…” He trailed off, patting down his vest pockets. His hand brushed across the nametag on his chest, “Dagwood.” It was the only name he ever used, he hated his first name.

“What? Oh, yeah. I borrowed it.”

“What a liar!” Dagwood laughed to himself, “The bastard had always had his eye on my lighter. It was his fault for not getting a stylish Zippo anyway, but did he have to keep stealing people’s lighters?” He shook his head, and waited for his friend to light him up. He took a deep drag on it, savoring the feeling. As he exhaled, his friend looked around conspiratorially.

“Hey, did you hear?” Dagwood shook his head. “The 101 just lived up to their nickname the other day. The big bloody one got seriously hammered in a fight that went all ‘Studio 54 on them. They say that most of the poor bastards limped off, but many couldn’t walk off that battlefield, if you know what I mean.”

Dagwood gave a low whistle. A “Studio 54” meant that their own troops had been hit by the new gas they were using on the enemy. Damn thing made you lose your mind, if inhaled through the nose or mouth you’d be a dancing queen till dawn. Utterly without control, you were easy pickings for the enemy.

“Stupid gas is more trouble than its worth.” Dagwood snorted in disgust. “Stuff gets into our troops as often as theirs. I hope I never take a hit to the nose from that stuff.”
“They say you could hear the screams and moans from the medical tent from halfway across the base.” His friend started talking, but Dagwood could barely hear him over the bombers flying overhead. Boy they were close “We should…” The roar was deafening, all consuming, the bombers were right above him, but the dusk sky was clear.

Dagwood woke with a start, the bombers shaking him from his dream before it could finish. Good. He hated that dream; he hated watching his friend die again and again. He wished so desperately that his last gesture to his friend would have ended the pain, but even that had just served to remind him of how much the war had cost him.

The planes were passing overhead and moving on to the small foothills several hundred years away. If the air raid went well, the ground troops wouldn’t be cut to pieces as they made a mad dash across it. If the gas attack goes well they might even get across without casualties. He wasn’t going to hold his breath, but he was going to put on his gas mask.

Deep down, he was terrified, his blood pounding in his ears. He swallowed nervously, choking on the dust, forgetting just how dehydrated he was until then. His face betrayed nothing though; this war had gone on too long for him to let it show on his face.

But it would be close behind him. Every step closer to the enemy would bring it that much close to him.

Chapter 2: Finally, a battle sequence!

Eh, heh heh. Not right now though. I've got other things to do. I know its almost entirely introduction stuff right now, but what do you guys think? Any good? Or really bad, and should be taken in a new direction?

I must admit, this is a lot darker than I intended. Right now only the innuendo and doublespeak make this funny at all. How curious. Well, the next chapter is a battle sequence, epect plenty of...erm..."Hand to hand" combat. Two men, wrestling in the dark, with only their short lances to stab and thrust with...look forward to it!

Holy damn. This F*cker's huge. Its like 4 pages on Word, and here I was thinking it was too small!

beautifull.

Attacking the rear has just got a new meaning

They better turn that into a documentary.

That's awesome, Niccolo! Keep it up! I want to know what happens...

Although it is rather depressing given the potentialy-amusing theme. Not that I'm complaining, you understand.