For practical reasons, the concern here is with what it is that you commonly associate with your identity. In your daily life, what is it that you recognize as being at the core of you? The answer for most people is a sense of psychological continuity. Their bodies may age, they may be a different person today than they were a decade ago, and even their thought processes may be different, but their continued stream of memories and experiences persist. It’s like a long chain of events and happenings that are lined up one after the other. It’s this chain that most people commonly associate with who they are and not necessarily the different traits or characteristics that they have held at any particular point in their life. The small child that struggled to control its bowel movements at age two may not look like you, and it may no longer experience reality like you, but in a big way, it is still you.
This theory was first exposed in the work of the English philosopher John Locke, and it’s been tweaked and adjusted to align with different arguments over the years. The core idea, however, has been fairly persistent, and it connects well with our approach to mindfulness. Your personal identity isn’t a static thing. It’s a continuously evolving chain of experiences. If we go by this definition, then we can broadly conclude that this continuity is shaped by two general kinds of experiences. The first kind is our day to day experiences of reality that come at us from our external environment. The second occurs via internal monologue. Although much of our psychological continuity is shaped by the world we live in and the stimuli we absorb, which fall into the first bucket, a lot of it is manipulated by the voice in our head, which comes from the second bucket. This voice is found in a part of our brain called the default mode network, and it’s fairly interconnected with itself, but also disconnected from many other regions of the brain. It’s active even when we don’t engage too much with the outside world, and it’s responsible for the mind-wandering that automatically forces our focus onto anxieties about the past and the future and self-consciousness about minor and otherwise irrelevant day to day events. What Weber and a few other scientists claim is that mindfulness can quieten this network in our brain and give us a sense of detachment from the thoughts that arise.
Indeed, in a number of studies, some of which Weber has been in, brain scans show that the default mode network of long-term meditators is less active than that of non-meditators. On top of that, the argument even goes as far as to suggest that much of the mental suffering in different forms that many of us experience comes from this specific part of the brain. In most instances, the promise of mindfulness isn’t necessarily that you will be able to fully manage all thoughts that enter your mind. It’s that, over time, you will be able to carefully observe them. You will be able to pause and reflect rather than being controlled by them. Instead of immediately and automatically responding to the impulse to eat a cookie while on a diet, for example, you will be able to acknowledge the cue and maybe even let it pass. The same idea applies to worries and anxieties. Rather than getting lost in a stream of thoughts about how you acted in the past or the problems in the future, if you learn to be mindful, you’ll be able to ensure that these thoughts don’t stay longer than they need to.