Wired ran a piece this week about post-traumatic stress disorder that reinforced the epigenetic connection between experience and genes.

The study they reported on found that people who had been abused as children were likely to experience variations in a stress-related gene, and that people with those variations were more likely to experience PTSD if they were exposed to traumatic events as adults.

This is profound in two directions: first, because it identifies the genetic influence on PTSD (one of only two studies to do so). Second, because it shows the experiential influence on genes.

The results suggest that there are critical periods in childhood when the brain is vulnerable “to outside influences that can shape the developing stress-response system,” said Emory University researcher and study co-author Dr. Kerry Ressler.

Of course, given that several authors of the study have financial ties to psychiatric drug manufacturers, the obvious reaction is for them to identify a drug-distribution opportunity:

Ressler noted that there are probably many other gene variants that contribute to risks for PTSD, and others may be more strongly linked to the disorder than the ones the researchers focused on.

Still, he and outside experts said the study is important and that similar advances could lead to tests that will help identify who’s most at risk. Treatments including psychotherapy and psychiatric drugs could be targeted to those people, Ressler said.

I would hope that scientists in this area also use this profound information to explore more non-drug remedies. If the cause of the initial gene change is experiential, couldn’t the cure be experiential?

The statement about “critical periods in childhood” pre-defines the argument by suggesting that there’s this tiny window in which genes can be changed without drugs, and then after that it’s pills, baby, pills!

Let’s not limit ourselves. This study has dramatic implications across all aspects of human life. Our experience directly impacts our physical reality, which directly impacts our subsequent experience, and on and on.

What do you think about this research? Does it push any buttons for you?

The other day, I left a comment on Read/Write Web about an idea I had for a highly localized, yet globally scalable, nonprofit:

Here in Christchurch, there are tons of people who have private veggie gardens and fruit trees. If you’ve ever had a veggie garden, you know that all your produce comes online at once. You have no tomatoes for eleven months and then you’ve got tomatoes coming out your ears. I propose a centralized database / logistics / collection system to consolidate excess personal produce and distribute it to food banks or hungry kids. I’d really love to set up a system for this that can be replicated in communities across the globe.

I issued an open invitation to anyone looking to either help me get it off the ground or take it over altogether. This invitation is being repeated here.

After I left the comment, I was delighted to receive an email from an entrepreneur in the States. He described a platform he’s developing that could be tweaked to suit the purpose. I’ll be following up with him, but I wanted to do two more things:

1. Put the idea out to you freely, for ideas and thoughts and contributions, or for you to adapt or mold or implement on your own, however you like. You can use the comments section or email me on kaila (AT) vortexdna (DOT) com, and
2. Invite you to share your ideas for social enterprises in the comments, also with the idea of opening them up to group input. Don’t worry if it’s a half-baked idea that you’ve got no time for; I welcome half-baked ideas, having so many of them myself.

Please also feel free to share information about any socially conscious endeavors you’re currently working on, and to invite others working in the space to contribute.

Thanks!

This past weekend, I watched more than 1,000 women outdo themselves.

Women of all ages and shapes, experienced and inexperienced. They came out to participate in the Sparc Real Women’s Duathlon: 3.5 km walk/run, 10 km bike, 1.5 km walk/run. They ran, they strutted, they cruised and ambled. And every one of them completed the course, most with massive grins covering their faces as they crossed the line.

The entire event was set up to support people who don’t necessarily engage in a lot of physical activity. There were no prizes for winning — it was about doing it. The organizers did give out random prizes drawn from amongst all the participants, but even these weren’t given out until after we had all cheered the last woman home.

These women could have fallen back on every excuse in the book: they’re too young, they’re too old, they’re too tired, they’re out of shape, it’s not in their DNA. But they chose to turn up for the high-energy mass warm-up that would have made Richard Simmons proud. They chose to step out on the course and commit irrevocably to the accomplishment.

I tend to be a bit of a cheerleader, which is putting it mildly. Tigger’s got nuthin’ on me. At the start line, I hollered like crazy as each wave of athletes took off. A woman standing stiffly next to me suggested that my enthusiasm was an American thing. “I’m British,” she explained, “and we tend to be more proper.” She turned and walked away; I watched her go without regret.

Wherever possible, I stood by the course, at the run-to-bike and bike-to-run transitions and at the finish, cheering for each of these brave ladies; they were all coming out of their comfort zones to do something for their own senses of self-worth.

The cycling gear spoke volumes. I congratulated an elderly, overweight woman who was riding a massive downhill mountain bike that obviously belonged to her son. I hurrahed another whose ancient steel frame was set off by shiny, $2,000 Zip wheels, perhaps lent her by a supportive husband.

I only knew three of the 1,000+ ladies personally, so I called out to each by number. “Way to go, 346! Lookin’ strong, 902!” I saw many of them repeatedly; they became familiar. Several shook my hand at the finish.

This type of event makes the world a better place. Encouraging people to do what they can, no matter how much that is. Supporting people to stretch their limits and try something different. Eliciting pride in people for having accomplished something for them out of the ordinary.

What have you done lately that made you feel proud?

Are there four more dreaded words in the English language?

I know the stereotype: you immediately visualized a woman, a man, and a relationship in trouble. But we all dread those words. They could just as easily come from your boss, your housemate, or your father. Nowadays, they’re coming from every company looking to have a “conversation” with you so they can “engage” more. It makes me cringe to hear it, and I’m a conversational marketer!

The prevailing New Age wisdom is that it’s always best to talk about things. But, let’s face it, sometimes you just don’t feel like it.

Sometimes you just want to do your thing, without having to discuss it or analyze it or debate it.

Last night a friend told me she had signed up as an Amazon affiliate, when she had initially wanted to go with Barnes & Noble. “Amazon just made it so easy,” she said. “They anticipated the different types of people who might be signing up — from techies to non-tech businesspeople — and gave a clear, automated path for each of them. With BN, on the other hand, I had to have a [shudder] dialogue with them.”

One of my biggest frustrations since moving to New Zealand is the number of times I’m forced to interact with a human being when I don’t think I should have to. Plane travel is a prime example. I prefer to book my flights in the middle of the night, after work and exercise and dinner and dishes and telly. I want to spend as much time as I feel like exploring every possible routing and date option, and then I just want to buy the thing. For overseas travel, this is an impossibility in New Zealand. The only thing you can book online is a straight round trip, and since I always have stopovers and visit multiple cities, I have to do my travel shopping during the day and with a person.

I hate it.

If you’re a regular reader of my blog, you know that I am a passionate proponent of keeping humanity in the equation. But a part of that humanity is understanding that sometimes we just want to be left alone.

Companies engaging in conversational marketing need to understand it has its place, and that its place is not necessarily at the point of transaction. Some purchases need to be talked through personally, with questions being answered and hands being held. In general, though, once we’re ready to buy, we want smooth, clear, simple systems that let us do what we want with a minimum of fuss.

This is true in relationships as well, by the way. Sometimes it’s healthy to talk things out, but sometimes you just need to let go and move on. Relationships are like plants. Yes, you need to stay on top of the weeds, but if you only worry about pulling weeds and ignore the water and compost and fertilizer, your plant will die.

So if you feel like having a conversation, leave a comment. If you don’t, don’t. It’s up to you.

Just let me know…

CNet reported yesterday on a paper titled Planetary-Scale Views on an Instant Messaging Network; it looked at the structure of the connections between 240 million users and 30 billion conversations on Microsoft’s IM service, and found an average of 6.6 degrees of separation between users.

CNet refers to the paper as ‘proof of six degrees of separation,’ but many of those commenting on the piece objected:

by henebry March 15, 2008 5:06 PM

Worth noting that this confirms the “six degrees” thesis in its academic form, rather than in the form popularized by John Guare’s play. In the play, everyone in the world is hypothesized to be separated by no more than six degrees of separation. That’s a far cry from the claim that the average separation is six degrees. There’s undoubtedly a long tail in the bell curve, with a maximum separation far more than six.

by ubbno1 March 15, 2008 8:24 PM

The other problem in this study is that all those studied had to have a computer, or at least access to one and a Microsoft Messenger account. This only proves the hypothesis in this particular group and has no bearing at all on the huge group of people in the world not linked to the internet, or for that matter, those, like myself, that don’t use instant messaging.

by johnericanderson March 16, 2008 4:47 AM

Also note this is a very specific subset of the population that are connected via IM.

This study DOES prove:
People that are connect to each other, are connected to each other.

I’m no sociologist; I’ve done no research on this topic; I couldn’t begin to debate the merits of John Guare versus Stanley Milgram. It matters little to me whether there’s a short head and a long tail of degrees of separation. My stipulated ignorance notwithstanding, the bottom line is clear:

We are all connected.

I suspect henebry’s maximum separation is a lot smaller than he or she suspects; there is nobody in the world, nobody, who is disconnected from the rest of us. We are friends, we are family, we are colleagues. We share ancestors, we share geography, we share a love of dancing or cooking or rock climbing or Desperate Housewives.

It is the illusion of separation that leads us to fail to consider the far-reaching effects of our actions. It is the illusion of separation that allows us to think we won’t be adversely affected by dumping litter in the ocean or in space—after all, we don’t live in the ocean or in space.

Thich Nhat Hanh, describing the Buddhist tenet that everything is empty, suggests that really everything is empty of a separate self. A house cannot exist without the timber that was used to create it, without the soil and air and sunshine and rain that allowed that timber to grow, without the millenia of evolution and recycled organics that led to a living ecosystem in which trees could survive. It cannot exist without the construction workers who built it, without their breakfasts and lunches and dinners and mommies and daddies. Taken far enough, you can see easily that the entire universe is in that house, as it is in you and me.

Even if there are 100 degrees of separation, it doesn’t matter. If you take a brick out of the bottom of a building, the brick 100 degrees up is likely to be affected.

My challenge to you today is to see if you can think of something to which you are not connected in any way, and I invite you to share your results and other thoughts in the comments.

Thank you for being connected to me.

A couple of days ago, much-respected DNA commentator Dr. Hsien-Hsien Lei picked up on some of the negative chatter surrounding personal genetics testing. She quoted an article by GP Dr. Ann Robinson:

If you find out you’ve an increased risk of diabetes and heart diseases, the advice you’d be given is exactly the same as if you didn’t have an increased risk: eat well, exercise, don’t smoke, don’t get too fat, have a test if you get symptoms.

This is the thing about good advice: it’s pretty much universal. Want to lose weight? There’s no secret: diet and exercise. Want to write a popular blog? Write genuine, original content and be a positive, active participant in the blogosphere.

“Sometimes things really are that simple.”

My friend Ricky said that to me last year, and it stuck. As a species, we like to make things complicated, but they don’t have to be. About halfway through Outswim the Sharks, which the author Reut Schwartz-Hebron generously sent me, I found a reference to The Ladder of Inference, and I was struck by how well it tied into what I was saying about stories not too long ago. Essentially, all of the in-between steps are the stories we tell ourselves.

So what’s the point here? It’s really that simple, and it comes down to personal responsibility. The DNA test won’t save us if we won’t be responsible for ourselves. The ThighMaster isn’t the answer; the diet pill isn’t the answer; the new boyfriend or job or city doesn’t solve the problems we carry within ourselves. But often it’s easier to focus on these external things than it is to accept our own incredible power.

That’s what I take away from Dr. Robinson: don’t wait for a DNA test to tell you what you already know. Take care of yourself. Treat yourself well. You deserve to be happy, to be healthy, and to be loved, and if you don’t take responsibility for yourself, no DNA test can help you.

Do you agree? Disagree? How do you treat yourself?