Glial Processes and the Common Thread

In our January Day presentation, I talked about something that I've been neglecting to discuss here - the history of neuroscience. And I'm not referring to the discovery of the glymphatic system or the more recent contributions that have occurred, but more along the lines of way back when humans started thinking about how we operate on physical and psychological levels.

In the 17th century B.C., people of the earliest human civilizations used hieroglyphics to depict head wounds, the dural folds of a brain, and skull fractures (Shoutout to ancient Egyptians!). For a significantly long time following such documentation however, a lack of technology made it difficult for people studying the brain to arrive at accurate, empirically grounded conclusions. Claims such as Ancient Greek Philosopher Aristotle’s belief that humans are better than the beasts because we have a larger brain to cool our hot-bloodedness joined the long list of neurological myths that resulted from an absence of dissection. Hippocratic doctors believed that the body was sacred and thus did not practice dissection, relying mostly upon anatomical observations. Over the years however, it became continuously demonstrated that being conscious warrants a human desire to understand how we operate by means of the gelatinous substance within our skulls. We saw groups of people from all around the world, throughout all time periods, asking the same fundamental questions; “How do I exist?” Through the knowledge many came to acquire, although seemingly basic, by knowing that it had something to do with our heads, so many asked “How do our brains work? How do they allow us to exist the way in which we do?” This in turn made philosophers like Rene Descartes ask questions of the difference between the mind and the brain. He said, “I think therefore I am.” Now, although the neuroscientists of today are using far more statistically analyzed data to express their conclusions, the fundamental question remains unanswered. How do we exist in the biologically complex way that we live?

As I thought about this progression of past through present and proceeded to discuss it on January Day, I began to question where my current studies on glial cells fit into this vast picture. In reality, the roles of the Glymphatic system were largely overlooked until rather recently. I mean sure, they play a technical role in our lives for baseline physical and neurological health. But that answer isn't entirely convincing. Our current technologies and incredible neurological advancements surely warrant far more than a minor role for glial cells. When I think of neuroscience and the big question of how we exist being asked throughout the centuries, it's often a psychological and existential association that comes to mind. Perhaps, this is largely due to the fact that we almost always deal in the external realm of things. It seems that only when these background, almost secondary processes experience dysfunction, we begin to explore their functionality. The way things were, dissection (after of course, the Hippocratic doctors chilled out) was only used when abnormalities were observed externally. Dr. Alois Alzheimer's, the man who set one of the most urgent yet ironically unyielding medical quests into motion, needed to first observe abnormal external behavior before determining that he had to take a deeper look inside. After that, as they say, the rest is history. It's kind of amazing, the way one thing leads to another. Behavioral characteristics and sharp powers of observation have a significant hold on being a catalyst for advancement, it seems. My question in considering this then; why is there such a perceived disconnect between the observational thread of inquiry and questioning done on a more technical and physiological level? Without functions of something such as the glymphatic system, not only would we lose physical capabilities of existence but also a human state of intellectual being. The enigma I struggle with is the fact that in order to consider questions about our existential nature, one does not necessarily require an understanding of our physiological mysteries. Certainly, one informs the other but the dichotomy between asking questions about cells and asking questions about the resulting manifestations of these cells is difficult for me to grasp.

I suppose this is all coming from the part of me that seeks to identify a specific purpose in all that I explore. If neuroscience, at its most foundational level possesses this question, then I ought to figure out how my work contributes to answering that question. The problem however is that I'm unsure of the manner I must go about finding this purpose. Is it even something to be found before a point of culmination? Now before this starts getting too meta, the first logical step I can think of is a recognition of the fact that there is more than one realm of neurology in human existence. There's the material and physical realm which includes things like the parts of our brains controlling breathing, heartbeats, kidney function, and the endless list of our organs' subconscious occupations. The other realm then lies in the psychological - one that is far more mysterious than the physical. I think, no, I know, both must be rooted in common ground. How else could it be that both realms are commingled within our beings? To be honest, not much of this is making sense... I sense that my somewhat distraught writing displays this but I guess my real question that all of this boils down to is why should glial cell morphology matter to the common person? I know it's part of neurology's physiological realm but where does it fit in that far more grand neurological economy governed by a questioning of our existence? Although that common thread, the continuously asked question is something more associated with the psychological realm, there has got to be some overlap.

I feel like I'm just repeating myself at this point - I don't know that this journal has any conclusions to these puzzling questions. To me, glial cells are important because they regulate the brain and in turn, the body. Without glial cells, we would have plaque-ridden brains and a remarkably low level of neurological capabilities. But even I'm not naive enough to think that most other people harbor this same appreciation for one type of the infinite number of cells constituting our bodies. We've discussed communication and audience extensively. What is the "so-what"? How ought one to present such seemingly minor ideas about overlooked processes to others? I know why I care about glial cells, but I believe it is now time I venture out a bit and find out how to bring this to those around me.

If you've made it this far, please accept my apologies for the confusing mess of thoughts that is this journal... Hopefully this excerpt from E. C. Krupp's "Echoes of the Ancient Skies" will make up for it.

"We have arrived at an interesting juncture. We may not be able to sort out the universe, but our attempts to do so may help us sort out our minds. Cosmic order is a product of the processing that goes on in our brains. The human brain has a job to do: it must make sense of the world. The real genius of the brain is its ability to simplify the world, to reduce it to the ingredients essential for our survival, and to rescue us from the madness of information overload.

Organized, cooperative groups have an evolutionary advantage, but it takes intelligence—a big brain—for us to deal with each other. We can be misled, however, by our consciousness of our own intelligence and believe that our big brains are really able—or will be able—to know the cosmos completely. We rarely think of the limits of intelligence. But each time we return to the myth of cosmic order—and realize we still use it—we should recognize our brains for what they are: tools that help us fill the environmental niche we so successfully occupy. The sky is one of the things that helped make the big brain work, but we are not detached, omniscient observers of the universe. We are participants."

Studying neuroscience demands perhaps the most curious of minds, never stop asking questions.