Imagine if scientists announced that they had created a basic computer out of meat, capable of solving mazes or doing simple arithmetic fairly accurately. Sounds incredible and a bit creepy, right?
What’s even more amazing is that you’re reading these words using a much more advanced “meat computer”—your brain. Made mostly of protein and fat, your brain manages to make sense of the world around you. It’s fascinating that these meat-based computers in our heads need electricity to function, even in a wet environment. Despite the improbability, it works. You’re reading this article now, thanks to the meat-based brains that designed the device and the communications network connecting us across the globe. Right now, these meat computers are using robots to explore space and other planets.
The reason I’m highlighting how extraordinary it is that our brains can function at all is to point out that we often expect an unattainable level of performance from ourselves. We want to meditate and feel calm, but end up with a stream of thoughts. We try to remember things but forget even the important ones. We aim to be patient but lose our tempers. We strive to be happy, but often fall short.
Expecting perfection from ourselves or others means setting ourselves up for failure. Our meat-based brains are quirky, fragile, and unreliable, even under the best conditions. They malfunction when low on fuel, overloaded with information, or sleep-deprived. Under these conditions, not only does cognitive performance suffer, but we might also feel under attack or start doubting our worth.
You’re going to forget things, lose your temper, misinterpret comments, believe false information, and make poor decisions. These things happen because our brains are not highly efficient.
When we demand perfection, these flaws frustrate us. We might become self-critical, deny our mistakes, or deflect onto others. Life gets easier when we accept that our meat-based computers are prone to errors.
For example, when I get irritable and yell because I’m overwhelmed—say I’m cooking, getting my kids to do their homework, and reading texts—I find relief in realizing it’s not the world’s fault or mine. It’s just that my brain is low on glucose and trying to handle too much. This understanding helps me forgive myself, regulate my emotions, and adjust my behavior to reduce stress.
I’m not saying you should keep losing your temper, just that you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself for being imperfect. You can also better manage your brain’s limitations by understanding them.
Knowing how finicky my meat-based computer is, I take better care of it. I ensure it gets enough sleep, keep it fueled, give it breaks, disable notifications on my phone during key times, and meditate daily to keep it running efficiently.
We can extend this understanding to others. When someone forgets something, we can remind ourselves that it’s normal. When a child or spouse is moody, we can consider that their brains might not be in optimal conditions. With more understanding, we can be kinder and more supportive.
I hope this helps you make your internal environment more stable and efficient, and improves how you relate to others with patience, kindness, and empathy.