It is the foundation of language — that nouns represent chattels and verbs their function. The result is the basis, or heart, of our expression in its literal panorama. This doctrine is, however, different with the language of science — primarily because there is variance in emphasis as regards things, their structure and purpose. To cull some examples: particle physicists, for instance, rely a great deal on mathematical functions, while biologists, not to speak of chemists, and medical scientists, are engrossed in the structure of genes, cells, and molecules, not to speak of their subtleties.
When we think of the behavioural sciences too, what takes precedence as language are habits, perceptions, memories and emotions. They are, in psychological lingo, functions, not material things. This is because our emotions enlist the profound, focused interest of scholars, aside from researchers, principally for the reason that they serve a host of functions. They are not confined to normal, italics, or bold, punctuation marks. They highlight our consciousness as being representative of the corporal state — besides the mind-body-spirit element of our being — that necessitates prompt action. What does this idea espouse, or connote? That our contextual emblems are registers of our experiences in the long-term reservoir of our mind, memory and learning — one that is passed on to our progeny.
Well, it is not that all emotions are actually adaptive. Sample this — a memorable vacation in Malta, or cascading images of past joy, is also emotion, but they are not indispensable for one’s continued existence. This brings us to a significant point — that every change in our brain state is motivation enough for any emotion per se to either produce a feeling, or sentiment. There are innumerable cell divisions in the human body each day — far more than the torrent of fours and sixes thumped during IPL — although there is a non-zero prospect of modifications in a DNA string during each division. Yet, the fact is there are myriad changes in our brain every moment, despite the fact that they may have little allusion for our transformed psychosomatic state. They are — more so, a handful of feelings — akin to unseen, yet fully-felt waves of air particles that whirl incessantly around our phizog.
It is obvious that not every remote feeling becomes a palpable emotion — this is primarily because our emotions are specific states created by events relating to one’s past history. It is also apparent that the study of brain states cannot infer an emotion in its every pattern, from the inside out. You’d think of it as a tennis ball smacked in the air. It falls a dozen times on the surface every time with a tempo that is in concurrence with a dependable equation. Yet, it does not amend the form of its fall, essentially because it has a past flight, or arc.
Sounds complex? Not really, if we place our radar and compass on the factual nuances of our emotions and appreciate meaningful words that illustrate our expressive states best. Agreed that the whole idea is not free from problems, or bias — because most of the common terms, in everyday usage, refer to solitary groups, rather than merge two or more emotional states. The outcome is: we tend to use just one expression from a range of reciprocally influential types, although all of us experience the merging of emotional states that such conceptual impressions refer to. Just think of it: emotions are as composite as individual preferences. Picture this too — for one who wants to shed excess weight, or extra flab, a chocolate splurge brings in pleasure and also remorse, but not prudence.