No, it's not mescaline, it's something else¹

I had a peculiar transition from sleeping to waking this morning or, to be honest, this afternoon: for a long series of moments, the light filtering through the closed blinds, the scents in the air, and the sounds of birds all meshed with the emotions that clung to me as I emerged from a dream, and suddenly I was young. It was, I think, somewhere around 1978, a summer weekend, school's out. I tried to gather it all into myself, to maintain and capture the sensations, but it dispersed into fragments of shredded cloud as I grasped at it.

The experience was especially peculiar because it wasn't so much a vivid memory as a state of being. But my recognition of this, and the subtle thought that if I remained somehow existentially motionless I could manifest it into permanence, and wake up seven years old again, was enough to puff away the sensations. I woke up fully and was me, now. How unfortunate.

This recent New Scientist article describes the research of Szabolcs Kéri of Semmelweis University in Budapest. He's studying a a gene involved in brain development called neuregulin 1, which has been linked to a slightly increased risk of schizophrenia. Furthermore, a single-letter mutation of DNA that affects how much neuregulin 1 protein is made in the brain has been linked to psychosis, poor memory and sensitivity to criticism.

But here's the really interesting bit:

People with two copies of the neuregulin 1 mutation - about 12 per cent of the study participants - tended to score notably higher on these measures of creativity, compared with other volunteers with one or no copy of the mutation. Those with one copy were also judged to be more creative, on average, than volunteers without the mutation. All told, the mutation explained between 3 and 8 per cent of the differences in creativity, Kéri says.

[...]

Kéri speculates that the mutation dampens a brain region that reins in mood and behaviour, called the prefrontal cortex. This change could unleash creative potential in some people and psychotic delusions in others.

Intelligence could be one factor that determines whether the neuregulin 1 mutation boosts creativity or contributes to psychosis. Kéri's volunteers tended to be smarter than average. In contrast, another study of families with a history of schizophrenia found that the same mutation was associated with lower intelligence and psychotic symptoms.

The stereotype is that genius is close to madness, and this work seems to suggest that the same mutation contributes to both creativity and psychosis: if you're a smarter mutant, you'll write poetry and music, or create sculpture and paintings; if you're a not-so-bright mutant, you'll just be unpleasantly mad and huddle on subway gratings in the winter, using the steam to hide from the Great Dragon.

Kéri's work came to mind after I'd tumbled out of bed and contemplated my odd transitory state while upright and awake. How much more effort would it have taken, I wondered, to slip over the precipice and lose my current self in that ephemeral state of being? What kind of effort would it have taken? If that isn't achievable, what do I need to do to recapture that state of being as a sort of emotional texture map, something I can overlay onto the wire frame of my current state? Would it be madness to do so?

To me, these are important and practical questions. Because for just a few minutes this morning, the world and I were full of venturesome possibility, and I was at peace with the coming day.

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¹NEO: My computer, it... You ever have that feeling where you're not sure if you're awake or still dreaming?

CHOI: Mmm, all the time. It's called mescaline. It's the only way to fly.