Southern Florida contains a magically complex ecosystem known to most as The Everglades. The Oxford dictionary defines it as as a marshy tract of land that is mostly under water and covered with tall grass, which is a start, but hardly prepares one for its 2 million acres, big enough to soak the bottoms of five cities of Los Angeles, all without rising much more than 8 feet above sea level.
Within the vastness, and beyond the experience of very few, are actually eight separate ecosystems, all dependent on their relationship with sea level. That mere eight feet creates powerfully different environments and habitats that nonetheless exist within many other common experiences. My favorite are what's called freshwater sloughs. One is literally called The River of Grass. It looks like a grassy plain but the depth might catch you by surprise, as may a predator. Calling it a river is kind of accurate in that the water moves toward the sea, but at maybe 100 feet per day.
What's most fascinating to me, is these various ecosystems have notable distinctions, and notable similarities. Even more interesting is there are no sharp boundaries. At first, it's not clear when one has moved from one to another. They do similar things for a while. Until they don't.
When I first learned about the multiple murkily distinct ecosystem making up this crazy complex and interesting biome, I was struck. This is a model of the human brain.
No model is ever an exact match, but out of the analogies for brains: it's an engine! It's a computer! No. It's The Everglades. Our brains contain vastness. Our brains and The Everglades have measurable and observable distinctions without clear and measurable boundaries. They both have their own versions of crabs and alligators. Each has channels of salty, watery, nutrient meandering through them. The National Park Service identifies eight separate ecosystems. The US Geological Survey identifies nine. That feels right too. At Kairos Cognition, we identify seven separate cognitive ecosystems. These are the ones for which we have the most reliable metrics. And I'd be sad to think we don't have more to learn.
Step into my digital airboat, and I'll start a tour of our cognitive ecosystems. Rather than tell you about them this time, I'm offering you a metacognitive experience. Starting with the principle that metacognition requires questions, I'm going to offer questions that open the explorations. My tour will start with our Associative system and wend our way to the Sequential, then enter in order: Listener, Observer, Mover, Reader, Talker.
Associative
Rapidly brings our experience forward in order to respond to what shows up in our context.
Context
What’s going on in your world right now?
What’s got your attention?
How does what’s got your attention fit with other things that have your attention?
Is there an example that gets close to what you have in mind?
Who is doing something you admire?
Who is doing something I should be doing?
Experience
Have you encountered this before?
What has been the experience of other people who have encountered this?
What lessons have we learned?
What lessons should we have learned?
When have we been caught by surprise?
What have we done well that we want to keep doing?
Take an inventory of our experience: Do we have gaps? Overlaps?
Review our history: Is there a time we did something better than we are doing now?
What's shown up in your world or caught your attention recently that deserves some big thinking. Start the exploration with these questions and questions like these. Tell me how your experience of conscious questioning impacted you.
Next up: Sequential
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Warm regards,
Francis Sopper
REFERENCED IN THIS LETTER:
The Everglades: https://www.nps.gov/ever/learn/nature/habitats.htm
nine: https://www.usgs.gov/geology-and-ecology-of-national-parks/ecology-everglades-national-park