Regarding sleep and deep relaxation as well as quasi-torpor states in animals

As I have been observing wolves on cameras, I have noticed that they seem to have at least two sleeping modes.

One of them is ‘the deep sleep’ whereby the individual is not alerted by environmental stimuli (including being suddenly stricken by someone’s butt in their muzzle) while the other is ‘shallow sleep’ whereby the individual is easily awakened and immediately aware of their surroundings.

The latter case even implies the ability by the individual to recognize within seconds who has approached them (e.g., one of the wolves is sleeping and another wolf walks up to awaken them; upon awakening, the previously sleeping individual reacts at once with the proper social greeting aimed at the specific individual which suggests instant recognition of the approaching wolf’s identity).

In human health sciences, it is often thought that deep sleep is a must in order to maintain a healthy body and mind.

However, it is understandable that shallow sleep allows to avoid danger, to react to environmental changes (e.g., changes in weather) and perhaps ambush predators might use such sleeping state in order to, at the same time, nod off and become immediately alerted to the presence of potential prey.

It seems puzzling, nevertheless, that, for example:

1. animals would engage in deep sleep outside of the safest circumstances possible (stories about deeply asleep, apparently healthy foxes slumbering off in open habitats such as grasslands and not being awakened by someone walking up to them and staying there for a prolonged period);
2. animals (at least some species) appear to be able to achieve a favourable rested state even if they have not reached the deep sleep regime and, overall, they do not appear cranky, stiff and exhausted when they are awakened from a shallow sleep;
3. species that do not have many natural enemies, nor are perturbed by slight changes in weather and also that have social buddies to watch out on their behalf, still engage in shallow sleep;
4. some individuals (including wolves) appear to engage in certain ‘dozing bouts’ which do not resemble neither deep, nor shallow sleep (the individual is half-alert and, from time to time, opens their eyes or twitches the ears in reaction to sounds);
5. some species undergo torpor or hibernation which is supposedly not sleep at all (brain activity, for example, is reduced to the point that dreams are not possible) and that might have had some type of a resting state metabolic shut-down precursor.

These considerations (among others) have prompted me to assume that:

1. Shallow sleep might not be as ‘inefficient’ in wild species as it is in humans (and perhaps domesticated animals) and wild animals might not be in need to detach from environmental stimuli in order to rest;
2. Deep sleep might be achieved not when the individual is safe or too tired but during physiological states that allow for the body to monitor the surroundings and for the mind to cease controlling the circumstances;
3. If deep sleep is not, strictly speaking, a necessity and animals do not die if they mainly rely on shallow sleep, deep sleep could have evolved for some purpose other than resting and reducing metabolic activity;
4. Animals might achieve a mental state of relaxation that resembles drowsing but that might not be related to sleep at all as much as it could be related to what later appeared as torpor/hibernation.

Animals often spend their lives outside and not all species even have dens and burrows.

As a result, they are never truly detached from environmental stimuli (which can reach them also in safer sites via noises, vibrations, smells etc.)

It is apparent that animals are perturbed by many anthropogenic, artificial noises and, consequently, it cannot be claimed that animals can sleep in a noisy, smelly, disturbed etc. environment.

Also, it is very improbable that an animal would sleep while in the presence of a powerful stimulus, e.g., a predator, prey, some other type of excitement.

Accordingly, we may ask – where do the animals draw the line between which environmental stimuli are non-impactful on their sleep state and which are not and how is their sleeping pattern adjusted to these assessments?

My theory is that, unlike humans and domesticated animals who spend much time ‘indoors’, animals are constantly exposed to their environment and they have evolved physiological adaptations that allow their bodies to process part of the environmental background information.

Cues that have been around for millennia or millions of years might not call for immediate, conscious attention and, as the animals go to sleep, their bodies might continue processing much of the data.

Some of the data that the body can process without assistance from the brain could even contain complex information such as social status by the surrounding individuals.

We might be unable to rest during shallow sleep because our body is constantly making inquiries with our brain – what is happening, what does this mean?

It could be the result of our constant exposure to overly loud noises, strong smells, strong vibrations as well as the utter diversity of stimuli we encounter hour by hour.

Even if this information is not processed consciously by the brain, the brain might still be actively involved in providing neurological signals back to the receptive pathways in the body itself.

Consequently, in order for us to sleep, we might need to shut the brain down and to tell our bodies to just trust that survival will happen.

Meanwhile, animals who are accustomed to their home ranges, to the smells and sounds within these ranges etc. – stimuli that are diverse enough but that have been processed often enough for this information to have been stored in ‘automatic analysis capacity’, could have become more efficient at not having to ask themselves what the meaning of it is.

Perhaps many of the familiar stimuli are processed half-way, i.e., they are perceived by receptors and they are conducted along the respective pathways only as far as to conclude that this is currently insignificant.

My assumption is that these stimuli do not disappear but that animals can store them in their memory for processing post factum.

This might lead to an altered pathway between the body and the brain whereby the brain does not offer a reply but it safeguards the information letting the body relax in reliance that if something significant happened, it will be known at a later time and there is no urgency.

In fact, such pathway could lead to a deeper state of relaxation in the body.

I do not suppose that it is easy to detach the body from processing vibrations, smells etc. if it is possible at all.

Accordingly, the busy-body might become more relaxed if, in its constant state of perceiving, it is sent a message that all is well.

But how about sounds?

Processing any type of data is metabolically costly and it might appear that, in order to rest and to save energy, it would be better to admit as few stimuli as possible.

Still, what if animals go at it differently?

What if the metabolic costs of admitting some type of stimuli such as sound (and not merely the vibration) to the brain are lower than the benefits of having stored the stimulus and having responded to the body that everything has been taken care of and there is no need to worry.

Such responding by a brain which is largely inactive but for very few pathways (memory storing and ‘all is well’ response providing) could be compared to deep meditation while listening to some type of up-boosting or calming messages (or music) (e.g., ‘I am calm, world is a peaceful place, I am happy, I am doing well, I am in control of everything’).

Thusly, the body would not become ‘switched off’ (which could be a stressful state as such because detachment from sensory inputs is frequently associated with injury or near-death, or at least great fright) but it would be told, over and over again, that anything that is happening, is alright and that there is no cause for concern.

In fact, as, during awake states, the individual probably responds with more alertness and worry, the body might be assuming that, during sleep, it is doing an exceptionally good job and that the individual has attained conditions resembling some type of paradise (where all is well at all times).

The brain might be somewhat lying to the body but this might ensure a deeper state of relaxation and the release of happy hormones.

Dreams can occur during both shallow and deep sleep.

Dreaming might interfere with the body-brain peaceful interaction because body might have to react to the dreams.

Accordingly, the body might become somewhat confused regarding ‘the whole story’.

Namely, the outside data suggest that there is no need for worry, nor, indeed, activity while the inner data suggest that some adventures are being had.

Thusly, the body might be in need of developing an understanding of when the information comes from what has been stored in the brain and when it comes from external sources.

Interestingly, it also seems to me that wolves, for example, are great actors which suggests they can deceive their bodies into believing something that is not entirely true, from the outside perspective.

However, in order to actually rest, the body should not be tricked into believing the dreams because dreams are not always very relaxing.

I think that, at least in wolves (and this post will be largely dedicated to wolves apart from the torpor/hibernation sideline), the organism has evolved a capability of differentiating between external and internal stimuli (when something is being smelled outside of one’s body and when something is being smelled as an imagining based on a memory).

The body itself might enact the movements requested by the brain (twitching a paw etc.) but it might be aware that the activity is not real and that the actual state is that of inactivity.

Perhaps such capacity for differentiation is based on some divergent memory pathways involved in storing data and processing stored data.

Wolves probably store plenty of data even while awake but the data might not be processed constantly.

Many of the interactions with their prey or their social group, or their environment demand for swift travel, swift responses.

At the same time, it is vital to keep track of new information or to fine-tune the existing knowledge data-base.

For example, while the nose could detect such signals as a previously unencountered scent during a chase, the wolf cannot stop the chase in order to try to understand what this scent is all about.

The wolf has to proceed with the chase based on the knowledge that the wolf already has with addition of the immediate bodily reaction to the new cue.

However, the scent could be vital as it could inform the wolf on the prey status and, upon processing the experience with the new scent also in mind (in memory), the wolf might come by an understanding why something happened (or did not happen) the way it happened (or did not happen).

If wolves play out such memory-based scenarios in their minds (which I think they do because how else would adults have developed such accurate ability to predict prey behaviour while young wolves sometimes chase after every individual?), the body must know that, at the moment, despite there being a brain response to scent cue, this is only an internal response to a cue which does not exist externally, not at the moment.

Thusly, while dreaming, the body might not believe the internally produced stimuli.

In fact, the body might even calm down the brain if the body is convinced that everything is alright and this conviction results in a state of relaxation which overpowers any troubles brought up by the brain.

But if the wolf’s body were, indeed, capable of telling the difference between what is happening in reality and what is happening in the mind, how could wolves ‘fool’ their own bodies (according to my theory that they do sometimes in order, for example, to achieve pup-like states when interacting with a dominant individual)?

Perhaps, under such scenarios, the memory is used in a ‘converted form’.

The body does not realize that the mind is playing out from the base of memory because the memory is first transformed into an emotion, and the impulse to act is sent along an emotion-related pathway.

Emotion is another type of a response to external stimuli.

If the sensory response can be overpowered by the emotional response, the organism as a whole might decide, for the moment, that the emotional response is more crucial to react upon than the sensory response (i.e., that the mind has understood something that the body has yet to grasp not because the body is somehow slower or less efficient but because much of the knowledge derived through bodily processing, is not come by momentarily but as an accumulation of data within experiential contexts resulting in conclusions).

If the emotional response does not arise due to external conditions but due to internally induced states, the body might still act based upon the emotion and, thereby, based upon an internal state.

However, over time, the body should become aware that it is not being accurate in its responses.

Accordingly, on occasions the body is responding under the guidance of an emotion which is purposefully inaccurate, there should be some reward involved, e.g., the body would achieve a state that is more favourable than the ensuring of proper reactions to actual environmental conditions.

For example, if a subadult who is being ‘dominated’ by an adult, does not respond to the situation as if it were a threat but rather follows the emotional lead to react in a manner which is not realistically very accurate (e.g., where the subadult could, in truth, overcome the adult accessing valuable resources such as food), this subadult might experience hormonal and otherwise physiological states (e.g., oxytocin production) that are far more pleasant and beneficial than stress and aggression.

I believe that ‘deep sleep’ is achieved when the body submits much of its processing to become involved in the state of the mind, and perhaps only basic physiological processing is maintained.

On one hand, ‘deep sleep’ in animals could also be different from that in humans because it might be achieved not through detachment from the environmental signals but through a memory-based storing of them without dismissing them.

However, I believe that animals can also become as ‘unaware’ of the environment during sleep and as invested in the internal condition as anybody.

What would prompt a fox to sleep so tightly that it would not be awakened by a prolonged presence of a threat?

I believe that animals rarely get to fully enjoy their physical states.

For example, many of the events during the daily life of animals occur very swiftly.

Food must often be acquired quickly and devoured even more speedily.

Some pleasant sights, smells, impressions must be passed by if the time is limited and if energy must be restored, offspring has to be nursed/fed etc.

So to speak, animals might have fewer opportunities to ‘stop and smell the roses’.

However, as animals are efficient at sensory memory, it is possible that these impressions and states are stored, as well, in short-term or in long-term.

Perhaps, during sleep (or rest), animals can re-access these experiences and to relive them, at last, taking delight in the food that had been eaten, in some joyful or skillful moves that had been made, in life’s victories, in the mere fact that this was a good day and all danger was averted.

While we would perceive such re-experiencing of conditions and states as pertinent with the dreams, I think that dreams must not necessarily be involved and that the body is capable of accessing these data on its own (without input by the brain other than memory or perhaps some emotion).

I believe that animals can process pleasant experiences without engaging much brain activity and this is what happens during deep sleep.

Bodies are processing information all the time, and many of our ‘sudden insights’ could be the result of long-term processing of experiences by our bodies (i.e., we are not told right away of each single impression that we encountered but we are delivered conclusions made by the body once the body (brain, in this case, being a part of body rather than a part of the conscious mind) has accumulated enough data to ensure that the experience is at all relevant to us (it is not a one-time thing of little significance) and to compare it with other data).

Perhaps during deep sleep, the brain is barely active but the body has detached itself from external processing (once it has been convinced that the world is secure enough) and the body is focusing on processing internally stored experiences but this is happening on a physiological rather than neurological basis (the mind is not especially involved).

Such processing itself could be relaxing and pleasurable (and hormones such as dopamine have antioxidative powers that can lead to the scavenging of the free radicals and boosting immunity).

But there are two implications that should be discussed.

Firstly, the processing should be directed at pleasant data and not at unpleasant data which suggests some sort of a differentiating mechanism is involved.

Secondly, it might be dangerous to detach from the external reality and the profits gained should be greater than potential costs to one’s health and survival.

Addressing the first issue – if the signals partly processed by the body are stored in memory and the memory can somehow message the body that this type of experience has been dealt with and is not considered dangerous, such pathway would already imply a certain selection for positive responses.

Perhaps, at some point, as the body becomes convinced that danger is not at hand and the body achieves a relaxed, idle state, it could start prying at the memory fund searching for something to process instead (which is an interesting assumption because we do not tend to think of our bodies as having a will of their own, less so, an intent to learn, although it is very beneficial to process information and to arrive at conclusions even in the case of ‘pleasant memories’ because pleasant memories are gained during such important processes as food acquisition, encountering possibly beneficial stimuli, engaging in social interactions etc. and such processes and their related mechanisms should be understood and fortified in order to lead (and not merely to have) an altogether better life).

Environmental stimuli such as scent are significant enticers of memories and perhaps it is through sensing particular smells or vibrations etc., the body can associate these external signals with those in the memory base (which is likely a routine process for many species).

However, smells can become associated to both ‘good’ and ‘bad’ memories.

Moreover, in many events during individual’s daily proceedings the two are closely intertwined (e.g., attaining food while evading competitors or having the satisfaction of bringing down prey while being utterly exhausted, scared or even injured).

Accordingly, I assume that the body itself does not differentiate between what is pleasant and what is not, namely, that it is not afraid of its produced memories.

Perhaps the lack of fear comes from the fact that whatever memories have been stored, have been stored there after the actual incident and this means that even bad memories are somewhat good because they are ‘accomplished’, i.e., survival has been ensured.

Even if the experience has had its pleasant and unpleasant aspects, the unpleasant aspects could be compensated for by the rewarding awareness that this situation has been dealt with and overcome.

Perhaps traumatized individuals have a greater difficulty achieving such sleep state (deep sleep) precisely because their bodies have come to be afraid of experiences that have crossed the threshold of being pleasant or tolerable and that have become truly unpleasant (confusing, without resolution).

Even if the body is not afraid of most of the memories and it can use the currently gained stimuli to access past experiences, it would still be more profitable to process pleasant memories (in terms of pleasant physical sensations and psychological responses) because it would lead to better rest, relaxation, boosted immunity etc.

It might not be as beneficial to subject the body to repeated experiences of unpleasant nature (that could be instead processed as dreams which the body can differentiate from reality and which the body does not respond to as fully, on a metabolic level).

But if the conscious mind is not involved in selecting of the memories, the body itself must have a mechanism to access pleasant vs. unpleasant past experiences.

Perhaps the body, once again, uses memory in order to determine whether the experience it is about to evoke has caused psychological upset for the organism.

Specifically, if the body wishes to determine, before actually processing the accessed data, whether the sensations would be proven good or bad, the body might want to check in not with physiological but with psychological responses to the memory.

If the animals’ bodies have learned not to cause excessive upset for the psychological state, they might be able to stop the memory from being retrieved.

It is beneficial not to psychologically aggravate the ‘host organism’ (if we look at the body itself as being hosted within some larger entity that includes personality- and individuality-based responses) because even if an individual faces psychologically upsetting situations, often it might be more profitable to deal with the psychological aftermath later because, at the time, focus should be given to clarity of mind.

Survival can depend on being able to tell when to have and when not to have emotional responses, and the physiological pathways probably are built to disallow some states from surfacing under certain circumstances.

Thusly, the body could, theoretically, serve as a guardian to the psyche (admitting as much of the upset as would not put one in harm’s way) and this very same guardianship could be applied while accessing experiences from the memory bank and choosing the pleasant ones (even thought the body itself might not be as ‘binary-minded’ in its evaluations of experiences as the mind is).

Processing pleasant experiences could be highly beneficial because this could lead to the ‘programming’ of the body (and, eventually, mind) to seek out such experiences in the future as the organism would learn what the pleasant experiences where associated with, how to find them.

I have this curious idea that organisms might not be necessarily inclined to search for pleasure (as is often assumed in theories whereby our ‘animalistic self’, e.g., id, always seeks out pleasure while it is the cultured, civilized self has a more versatile approach to what should be pursued in life).

Avoidance of harm might not be avoidance of unpleasurable states.

It could simply be avoidance of incidents that could lower one’s chances at survival and if, for example, it were important for the organism to survive, the avoidance of pain or grief etc. is not, per se, avoidance of something unpleasant.

Many animals spend every minute of their lives suffering something that is unpleasant but not avoiding it (because they are perhaps not yet aware how to avoid it or that it can be avoided, or that it is not delightful in the first place).

This is a great mercy because none of us could withstand all of the fears, aches, irritations, undelightful sensory inputs that we are exposed to on daily basis.

For example, if a mother hare was constantly and truly aware of how threatened her babies are (and, similarly, any other organism which is subject to high mortality during infancy), she would not be able to take care of her offspring.

Her body might have adjusted to being in a state of rather continuous worry and stress and it might not perceive that it is ‘not normal’, nor it might send a signal to the mind that something must be done because nothing can be done, at the moment.

Conditioning oneself to seeking out pleasure could lead to an evolutionary path of bettering one’s state by introducing more of happiness and enjoyment and less of grief and hurt.

Perhaps it is far more ‘humane’ (I am using question marks because I am referring to animals here) for the body to work through the experiences without judging them but also being able to focus on what is pleasant for the organism.

If the body then, without involving emotional reactions and consciousness, is capable of coming up with new solutions (where to find more pleasure, how to avoid some of the pain that has been so far inescapable), then the organism as a whole could proceed into a new stage of evolution, a happier and more delightful one, naturally, based on physical experience.

We can be weird, however, as well. We might respond with positive emotions to ‘negative situations’. One of such examples is self-denial during altruistic interactions.

Our bodies might learn that even though some responses cause as fear, pain etc., initially, on the larger scale, they are preferred by us, and there could even be some conditioning to a threshold of ‘bad psychological experiences’ that our body exposes us to.

Namely, it might be that animals (nor us) do not wish to avoid ALL that is unpleasant because some immediate unpleasantness could lead to, for example, long-term pleasantness (benefits gained from being a part of a social group) or even delayed gratification which is greater than the immediate pleasure.

Upon accessing memories and using the psychological response as a selective factor ‘for or against’ certain experiences, the body might become participant to what the mind has learned of the world (namely, the body might learn that the organism, as a whole, might have certain propensity and will to endure suffering).

Addressing the second issue (that of the safety of detachment from environmental stimuli during deep sleep), I suppose that social species could be at an advantage here because they can rely on someone else watching over them (which is very interesting from the physiological processing perspective as it would imply that the body has learned that some processing of environmental signals occurs outside of itself but I am not going to delve into this matter, presently).

On the other hand, social species could also attain pleasurable states more efficiently and commonly during waking hours and they might also be able to process some of these states during interactions with affiliates.

Non-social species that suffer high stress levels, could be, at the same time, at greater peril while engaged in deep sleep but they might also derive more gratification and more crucial insight from these states (e.g., how to further pursue happiness + deleting some stress products in the body etc.).

For example, the fox that is sleeping, unaware of all else, might not be doing so entirely blissfully but rather because something has happened previously increasing the stress level and demanding some detoxifying of the body.

Those might not always be the ‘innocents’ (the ones unaware of danger) who sleep the soundest but also the ones who have recently suffered stress who are in need of scavenging free radicals and reboosting the happy hormones (resetting the path to happiness, so to speak).

Thus far, I have argued that sleep is not an inactive and detached state in animals and that metabolic activity is continued on a physiological level in order to attain relaxation but also to attain crucial insight.

During these activities, both physical and mental processing can be involved but they are also somewhat separated (connected mainly through memory pathways alone) as the mind protects the body by informing it that dreams are not real while the body protects the mind by guarding it against bad memories.

As a result, ‘unpleasant experiences’ might become processed psychologically (where they do not impact the body as whole and where they are understood as not being threatening at the moment) and ‘pleasant experiences’ might become processed as if they were real (relived), on a physiological level.

Meanwhile, it is also possible that shallow sleep occurs during which the body is simply relaxed and exchanges ‘automatic reassuring messages’ with the memory while the mind is not very active; or deep sleep occurs during which neither the body, nor the mind are very active (the body limits the messages sent to the basic minimum and the mind has nothing to do even with sounds etc.).

It is important that being exposed to familiar, natural stimuli might not be avoided during sleep and I believe that animals can sleep while being rather aware of their surroundings.

Some of the shallow sleep might occur in a mode whereby the mind does not disconnect from the memory storage facility and processes some of the inputs delivered by the body or even requests additional inputs.

It is similar to how some humans might use nature sounds as background ‘music’ to ensure better sleep or how we sleep better when surrounded by familiar smells, tactile experiences, persons etc.

While humans might use this ‘background’ to achieve a sense of relaxation and security, I suspect that animals are not using these inputs in order to detach their mind from it but rather they reach an interesting ‘dream-state’ whereby they travel these impressions which are impacting them directly but which are perhaps accessed not as direct experiences but as memories already.

It might sound counterproductive for an animal to be taking in environmental signals that are familiar and not truly affecting their survival or wellbeing (when the mind could be wholly disengaged and at rest).

However, I believe that animals comparatively rarely get to simply enjoy peace and… well, not really quiet but ‘home-quiet’.

As many animals spend their whole lives in one place, they might have formed strong attachments and strong attachments are, also, necessary in order to remain in the home range.

Perhaps such processing through memory pathways encourages bonds with the home range itself (and with the individuals that such ranges are sometimes shared with).

Animals might not have as much time to ‘sit on the porch and take in the good airs’.

During shallow sleep, the mind might enjoy the experiences of the home and the memory mechanism could ensure an even deeper attachment (because our memories determine the bonds we create).

Alternatively, this type of processing could be beneficial for species with large home ranges and/or mobile lifestyle.

They might not be able to revisit parts of their range as frequently but they still have to make accurate judgements over what is happening on their range as a whole.

While the physiological processing could be significant enough, by itself, it might form general conclusions that are not related to the specific place.

For example, some scent cues that might be processed, could deliver information regarding the particular scent wherever and whenever it is met.

However, if the mind engages just a little bit to link the scent experience to the specific site and the specific time when the scent is perceived (and the memory pathway could serve to compare this experience with other occasions and other locations when similar experiences have been gained in the particular place or elsewhere), during sleep, the animal could form useful assessments over ‘the state of the estate’.

Or perhaps the animal might even gather some information that could advise the activities right after awakening (what species have passed by, what the weather might be etc.).

This could lead to a more decisive action saving time and additional cognitive effort.

My other argument is directed at a contrasting state, namely, the state of reduced metabolic activity.

I believe that animals do not always sleep in order to rest and that there is some other type of a resting state (which I have not yet come up with a term for) which might have served as a precursor for torpor/hibernation in some species.

This state, initially, resembles a ‘conscious drowse’ whereby the environment is being perceived by the body and by the mind but the perception gradually becomes more and more vague until perhaps it is reduced to perceiving the general state (e.g., favourable for survival or not).

Reduced metabolic activity both in a physiological and mental capacity can be achieved through the sleep states that I have described above.

Such resting state could, however, still include a relatively active processing of familiar, routine stimuli.

The other resting state (which, at its ultimate, could lead to torpor), in my opinion, altogether excludes stimuli that are non-extreme (that could threaten survival) while the brain is not focused on some type of memory processing, either.

One might argue that, regardless of mechanisms involved, such state is more easily achieved under conditions of excluding stimuli through retreating from the stimulating world (denning, burrowing in a site where the environment is stable and unchanging and where it offers little in the wise of pertinent signals).

I believe that retreats into hibernating/torpor sites could be of assistance (such sites are characterized by a microclimate that would not deliver the ‘survival alarm’ message to the organism) and they could have been especially important during the initial phases of assuming torpor/hibernation behaviour for prolonged periods.

Yet I assume that seclusion is not a prerequisite in achieving the ‘pre-torpor’ relaxation state.

I believe that, during this state, the animal draws the focus from external experiences (memories and wants of something being also external experiences as they either relate to what has happened externally or what should be happening externally) toward internal experiencing of oneself.

It may sound rather… esoteric. However, I think that the mechanism is rather simple.

During daily activities, animals probably devote their attention to the start and end phases of data processing.

Namely, sensory data is perceived and it is processed in order to arrive at conclusions in the form of reactions, emotions, mental states etc.

It is probably the encountering of stimulus (e.g., finding a smell) and the interpreting of the stimulus (determining what the smell entitles) that are relevant during a hectic lifestyle.

Hardly would the animals have much time to spare for what is happening in between (during the process of data conduction whereby the receptors conduct the signal and its products along chemical and neurological pathways to reach either automatic response (instinctual) centres or cognitive response centres).

To compare, we might hear a sound and then we might try to understand what this sound means and how to respond.

During this process, we do not focus on how our body is processing the experience of the sound (how it reaches our ears, how it is converted into forms that can be sent as chemical or electrical data, how these data reach specific brain centres, how the information is compartmentalized etc.).

We are not supposed to focus on such proceedings because we are supposed to be able to navigate and manipulate real-time situations while a conscious processing of the entire data operation would take up precious milliseconds or even seconds.

As humans, we, however, tend to ‘waste our time’ focusing on pleasurable experience processing operations such as eating or sexual intercourse.

(Meanwhile, we do not appear to derive meaningful conclusions from any of this.)

Focusing on feed processing could be of value as it allows to understand the impact of certain types of forage and this could be how some animals (especially, ones which forage relatively selectively and not in bulk) arrive at insights where to find specific limited nutrients (nitrogen, sodium, calcium etc.) or where to find food with medicinal properties (e.g., plants high in tannins or essential oils with anti-parasitic, anti-pathogen, anti-inflammatory, antioxidant etc properties).

Perhaps this mental state that I am about to describe has evolved, for example, during food processing or during the processing of some other vital information.

The animal might have focused on the internal effects of, e.g., the food that has been consumed directing both the sensory and the cognitive faculties toward perceiving and processing these operations.

However, I think, at some point, the food information processing (or other types of experiential processing that were directed at internal data transmission) drew in the fascination by both the body and the mind for these two faculties to attempt to understand one another’s domain.

Namely, the mind is not truly in touch with reality and reality is delivered to it in a pre-processed form.

It is possible that the earliest forms of cognition were even more detached from external reality than the more advanced minds.

These earlier forms could have been the end product of a process almost entirely achieved by physiological processes and they might have only had the capacity to, for example, store the information (without bearing any impact on it) or to choose between two responses.

The regulatory capacity of the mind is largely dependent on the extent to which is is involved in the data processing (during which stages decisions can be made on the cognitive level impacting the outcomes of situations).

It might be dangerous for the mind to command the body because the body is the product of thousands and millions of years to adaptations to environmental conditions and because the body perceives the information in its most direct form (while interpretations could lead astray).

However, the mind is capable of delivering advice on levels that the body cannot achieve.

For example, the mind can accumulate experiences during the individual’s lifetime (regarding current conditions which could have changed since some body responses were evolved in the species) and it can offer alternatives.

It can recall past responses and their outcomes and it can evaluate which response alternative would be the most efficient one (and perhaps which response alternatives have become outdated or should be adjusted).

But the mind can only do so by becoming more expert at deciphering and working subtle data delivered via the physiological mechanisms.

The further along the line the mind can trace the body’s data conduction mechanisms, the quicker some well-advised responses might also become (because, essentially, the mind can step in early on with its counsel compared to circumstances where the body has to deliver the entire dataset concerning some situation and only then the mind can begin processing).

Meanwhile, the body must be usually preoccupied with the taking in of the experiences in conditions where the amount of data might be quite constantly overwhelming.

Rarely the body might have a chance to recognize its own impact on the mental state of the organism because the focus is drawn toward the external circumstances.

While processing some types of internal information (e.g., what sensations are derived from having a certain type of food in one’s body), the body (and, hereby, I refer to physiological mechanisms and not to neural activity as such) might, at last, come in close contact with the neurological responses to its signals.

We do not tend to think of a body (without the mind) as being able to possess cognitive capacities but it actually does.

For example, a body can possess its own memory which is stored in the form of ‘well-established’ pathways etc.

Body might also possess its own curiosity or sense of achievement.

For example, why do some ‘mindless’ organisms such as fungi or bacteria evolve new methods of colonizing their hosts or utilizing some type of a substrate?

Such innovations are explained by competition or resource scarcity etc., but I also believe that many organisms might be programmed to evolve in complexity.

There are some organisms that have remained very simplistic and successful since the dawn of life on Earth (types of algae, for example) while other organisms have evolved and evolved until they have turned into mammals or trees.

I do not think that the exploratory nature by simple life forms can only be explained by competition and that any deviations of ‘what has been’ are the result of some environmental pressure.

I believe that such advances are also the result of opportunity, namely, that organisms evolve not to escape a niche which has become hostile or depleted but also to explore new options which might be more exciting for some life forms (under specific circumstances?) than for others.

The excitement factor (and physiological curiosity) could be at least partly related to the overall availability of stimulating experiences for the organism.

For example, not all taxonomically identical organisms live in identical environmental conditions.

It is dangerous for an organism to atrophy its functions and, in situations, where some functions cannot be used because there is no opportunity within the old framework of functionality, the organism might risk losing this faculty.

As a result, they might be searching for new opportunities to engage the same faculty and sometimes this could lead to alterations in this faculty.

Additionally, under conditions where much energy is available, organisms might seek out new applications for their already fully engaged faculties developing multifunctional operations.

I believe that when, at a relaxed and nourished state (the faculties are not needed for survival and energy is available), the animal’s body might begin exploring how else to apply itself in order to improve its engagement with the world.

It might be costly for many highly evolved species to seek out many new opportunities in the external world because such species must not threaten their niche without a good reason.

It is also energetically costly to engage in ‘curious body activities’ in the outside world because such activities probably involve moving, they might involve danger etc.

Meanwhile, it is far less costly to explore the existent internal pathways and to seek out new opportunities of developing new functions.

The physiological body might be thereby ‘poking toward the mental domain’ in order to see whether some of the evolved mechanisms could not be improved upon or simply to determine what exactly the responses to its internal signal transduction are (in order to achieve more favourable mental states etc.).

Thusly, it might be beneficial and entertaining for the mind and the body to reach out toward one another within the context of internal pathways.

It might be profitable to do so not under extreme circumstances but under calm, peaceful, satiated circumstances that do not require that much energy and where unnecessary upset would not arise.

In fact, humans have been doing the same by exploring our passions and our states, and our responses to the sights of the raging seas and rainbows above green fields putting these insights into poetry and other art forms.

Only we have done so with regard to dramatic circumstances, for some reason, without giving much recognition to ‘mundane states’.

Perhaps this is why it might be difficult for us to associate a seemingly drowsy animal not exposed to anything particularly poetic as being engaged in what might be considered a poetic, introspective activity.

But this might be why animals are so excellent (compared to us) at not destroying their own homes (they dedicate time to understanding these homes and fine-tuning their understanding of the said homes).

I believe that during the process of receiving a peaceful, familiar environmental signal and then following up with what types of responses it causes on a cognitive level, the body and the mind become focused on one another, and the attention becomes drawn inward.

It might be that, at some point, external stimuli are no longer needed and if the body is secure enough in its environment (no threat is predicted), it might begin focusing on internal sensations entirely while the mind might, equally, withdraw from memories or wants directing itself toward the processing of, well, itself through the perceptions of the body.

The body might largely shut down its own functions and only such pathways might remain open to external reception that would advise the organism on imminent danger (a huge drop in temperature, predator scent in a very close proximity, a very loud noise etc.).

This could be very similar to the state of torpor whereby the activity in the body and in the mind would be focused on the present proceedings but without involving external data, nor additional internal data (past experiences, emotional responses etc.).

However, in order for the body to become satisfied in its curiosity, at first, the body might attempt prying into mind’s affairs and this could result in considerable mental activity which is not compatible with drowsy relaxation, nor torpor-like states.

Thusly, in order to achieve a state closer to metabolic rest, the body would probably have to begin understanding itself through the mind (the focus would be directed at the bodily pathways which are currently happening (present-time data processing) and which, due to the stress-free environment, are routine; understanding routine physiology could be essential because it is how the body should be functioning – it is the state that must be achieved and resumed).

It might be a fascinating for the mind because, internally, present occurrences can be experienced at real time while any external experiences arrive at the cognitive destinations with some delay (in fact, the mind might be able to determine the degree of its delay by comparing real-time data acquisition at contact points between chemistry and neurology vs. externally-obtained data acquisition).

As a result, the animal might be shutting down much of the ‘extra activity’ in order to follow its own basic internal metabolism.

For us, it is strange to assume that someone might be captivated by such information (basic, mundane, perhaps not very diversified states).

At the same time, it is precisely what we yearn for and what we miss when we have, for example, left some familiar environment or when we are sick.

It could be a powerfully pleasant experience, especially, if the organism is doing well (although it could also be a self-diagnostic experience).

I believe that torpor and hibernation are based on such real-time interaction between the body and the mind in the ‘internal space’.

However, during torpor, for example, the external environment is not friendly.

Perhaps when the animal is faced with severe stress that is either external or internal (heat, cold, fatigue) but that cannot be resolved through some active response, nor it is favourable to be waiting until an opportunity to resolve it might arise, the same mechanism might be used in order to shut down the constant external experiencing of the stress (during torpor or hibernation, this is accompanied with retreating from the high stress environment and ensuring some basic protection from its impact).

For example, if the animal has overexerted themselves or if the animal is injured (without being able to heal oneself), or if it is too hot but nought more can be done than finding a shade, the animal might wish to zone out from the stressful experience because the experience itself causes stress.

If the stress factor itself cannot be resolved, it might be better to reduce its impacts through being stressed as little as possible.

Thereby, the body and the mind might focus on some type of an internal contact zone which is unrelated to familiar, peaceful environmental conditions, nor it can be truly related to exploration of internal pathways (because most pathways are affected by stress) unless it is possible for the mind to deliver relief to the suffering body through being able to zoom in on the chemical/neurological mechanisms of the stress response without ‘judging it’ as an unpleasant experience.

Namely, if the mind were capable of treating the stress response as chemistry/electricity without producing emotions or other types of additionally stressful responses and if the mind could thereby perhaps overtake the electric activity that would otherwise send pain impulses to the brain, it might be possible for the mind to, at the same time, partake in resolution of the problem (if the problem can be resolved) while acting as a pain-killed (taking up neurological pathways that would otherwise transduct messages of pain).

On the other hand, the mind and the body might try to shut down as much of its metabolic activity as possible so that any resources would be directed at basic maintenance + damage repairs.

It is truly difficult to say what type of interactive zone (which is not involved in the stress reaction) could be involved in this shut-down.

All I can think of is the recognition of ‘being alive’ because it is a truth which does not require additional quality assessment (i.e., ‘I am alive’ is an informative, encouraging, peaceful reckoning but it does not involve evaluation of ‘how I am doing while being alive’).

How do we experience the recognition of ‘being alive’? Is it a product of totalling our many internal states and activities (e.g., heart-rate, breathing etc.)? If it is so, such product would not be applicable for the quasi-torpor state because it would request that we tracked our metabolic states.

Perhaps animals have another method of determining that they are live.

Namely, perhaps they do not have to determine ‘whether they are live’ (is my heart beating, am I breathing) which, come to think of it, is a very strange notion in humans.

Perhaps the state of being alive is determined as precisely this ‘real-time’ contact between the body and the mind whereby a largely chemical impulse is converted into a largely electrical one.

Maybe, under circumstances where the stress factor is the main data signal, the mind is capable of overtaking this signal very close to its reception and the body itself does not have to do much metabolic processing.

Meanwhile, the mind might simply interpret the very fact that a signal has been received into the recognition that ‘I am alive’ (because there has been the signal) and rather than interpeting the signal, the mind be asking once more, ‘Is it still cold?’ (For example.)

Thusly, the state of torpor could be translated into a conversation between the body and the mind whereby the body is repeating ‘It is still cold,’ and the mind is replying ‘I am alive’ which is exchanged by ‘Is it still cold?’ – ‘It is still cold.’

As this pathway becomes ‘well-worn’ (for the time being, it is the main operative pathway), the information could become stored as a localized memory (a body memory), and it might somehow deactive the conversation between the mind and the body whereby the organism itself simply exists in this state (which is comprised of real-time interactive zone turned into a physiological memory) of ‘It is cold. I am alive.’

And because the present state is sort of transferred into a memory state, the body might rest because what is happening, ‘has already happened’.

It could give rise to relaxation for the mind because the mind would not feel inclined to be actively engaged in something that has already happened and that apparently resulted in staying alive without any additional components to this condition (as stress pathways would be excluded from this mental state).

Other profound changes (in temperature, photoperiod etc.) might deactivate this state through impacting body physiology and/or hormonal production.

Why do I believe it is turned into a memory?

Conventionally, we regard memory as a recording that happened in the past and that is not to repeat itself.

However, I believe that memories are supposed to be repeated (even if it is not possible in a full sense).

Namely, memories should give us information about what type of experiences should be sought out again because they were beneficial.

Pathways that are established on a physiological level are memories in the sense that the body has recorded the operation through which a certain state must be achieved (a past experience is relived).

Mind might leave such pathways alone with routine check-ins and with paying closer attention once something has become dysfunctional.

***

I wonder if an engaged (or gradually disengaged) mental state could be more beneficial for relaxation and metabolic rest than sudden and full detachment from external realities.

For example, it is know that it is far more costly for animals to briefly wake up from torpor or hibernation than it might have been to stay fully ‘awake’ all the while.

While humans are not ‘machines’ (on some level we, however, are), it is also known that some technologies require a greater power boost to become switched on than to operate constantly in energy-saving regime (e.g., refrigerators).

Perhaps a full detachment from external stimuli is more costly than maintaining partial awareness of the environmental signals because waking up from such state might require suddenly activating a great number of metabolic processes.

Spending energy and chemical elements to maintain connection with the environment (or to gradually turn this connection into an automated, inward focused state) could be more profitable if the investment in a complete ‘reboot’.